Cam’s watery laughter was the best thing he’d heard all day.
Twenty-Three
Cam swung the FBI sedan into the driveway beside Nic’s truck and glanced at the dash clock.He’d seen two in the morning way too many times this week.The neighbors couldn’t be loving it either.Porch and interior lights blazing, their home glowed like a beacon on the otherwise dark street.At least the police cruisers and emergency vehicles were gone by now, only Eddie’s Wrangler left parked at the curb.Aside from their obnoxiously bright house, all was quiet and normal on their street.No indication that they’d closed a major case, that a local gangster was behind bars, that the corrupt US Attorney was ousted, and that Nicolette Sare was safe and sound with her family.
No indication that Cam had almost lost everything—his family, his future—in the process.
After the I’m-still-alive call from Nic—thank fuck—they’d both had shitstorms to deal with on their respective ends, making further calls impossible.He’d checked in periodically by text, but it had taken hours to get home.From Cambria, he’d gone to San Francisco General with the Sares, then from the hospital to local lockup for booking, and from there to the office to debrief with Aidan and Moore.When he’d finally escaped the Federal Building, he’d decided against calling ahead in case Nic had managed to fall asleep.Nic would be keyed up, no doubt, same as Cam.
After days without sleep, he and Cam were both skating the same adrenaline-rush-exhausted edge.Cam was looking forward to his pillow almost as much as he was looking forward to fucking his boyfriend.
Correction.His fiancé.
Mind lingering in the clouds over that development, Cam couldn’t care less about the busted-up front door lock.They’d needed to fix it for a while.Nor did he care about finding his traitorous cat perched on Nic’s lap, happily getting scratches behind his ears, while Eddie and Nic shared a couple of beers at the dining table.
Cam closed the door and dropped his bag on the couch.“Is it sooner?”
Nic lowered his bottle and turned his bruised and bandaged face toward him.One look and Cam came crashing back to earth, wincing in sympathy.
Nic’s lips tipped up in a tired, amused smile.“Much later, I’m afraid.”
Bird jumped off his lap, bushy tail shaking high in greeting as he trotted across the living room and flopped on his side at Cam’s feet.Kneeling, Cam gave him a belly scratch and surreptitiously checked out the room, assessing the damage besides that done to Nic.
Not too bad, considering.The dining table chair with the bum leg was missing—not a surprise—and the living room rug had been rolled back toward the A/V system, probably to protect it from foot traffic.If there’d been any actual damage to it in the course of the takedown, the rug would have been removed as evidence.Even the living room lamps, ottoman, and side tables were intact and accounted for.What remodel was Nic talking about?
“You got one of those stouts for me?”he asked, straightening.
Nic tilted his head toward the kitchen.
Bird raced ahead, hopping back into Nic’s lap, while Cam followed, crossing the living room, skirting the edge of the dining area—a hand coasting over Nic’s shoulder—before he turned the corner to the kitchen.
And ground to a screeching halt.“Holy fuck!”
“Watch your step,” Nic belatedly warned.
“Watch your step?”Cam scoffed.“Where the fuck am I supposed to step?”
Eddie chuckled.“You should have seen some of the messes he made as a SEAL.That’s amateur hour by comparison.”
Bottles clanked behind Cam, who was busy cataloguing the damage.
Both oven doors gone, several cabinet doors removed, travertine floor tiles cracked and dented, granite countertops chipped at either end, the knife block on its side, and the knives missing altogether.
And where the fuck was the cast iron skillet he always left out on the stove?The only pan he used in the whole damn kitchen.They’d have to ask for a new one on the wedding registry.Silly thought, but Cam needed silly ones to chase away the much darker thoughts racing through his head.Like how the hell had Nic fought his way out of this?Which of those dents and cracks had he caused?How close had he come to not making it out at all?
He steadied himself with a hand to the bar, and Nic’s touch ghosted over his lower back, reminding Cam he was still here.Banged up a bit, but he’d fought his way out.Survived.They still had their home and future together.
Cam breathed in deep, fighting back the panic that had threatened.“What can I touch?”he asked once it had receded.“Where can I walk?”
“CSU already processed,” Nic answered.“They took the doors and such as evidence.Just be careful for your own sake.”
He tiptoed around the cracks and dents, made it to the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of stout, popping the cap with the opener out on the chipped counter.Carefully making his way back to the table, he passed behind Nic’s chair and ran a hand through his ruffled hair, desperately needing to touch him, to reassure himself again that Nic was here, to silence the worst-case scenarios running through his mind as to the gauntlet Nic had had to run.
Nic jerked away with a hiss, and Cam yanked back his hand.Nic caught it, fingers wrapped around his wrist.“It’s not you,” he said, looking up.“Took a baton to the back of the head.”
More than he’d reported on the phone or over text and more than the bruises and butterfly bandages let on.“Medics check you out?”
Nic nodded, entwining their fingers, as Cam claimed the chair next to him.“And your cut?”
