“I’m honored, sir.” Nic rested back against the edge of the desk, thumb drumming a steady beat against the wood. He appreciated the admiration and respect of his colleagues—there really was no higher honor—and they’d been a good team there in San Diego. But looking again at the pictures on the window ledge, he couldn’t deny he had a good team here too.
More than a team. Family.
He’d spent half his life a virtual nomad—going wherever the Navy sent him. His life was settled now, here, with Gravity, the family Aidan had somehow sucked him into, and Cam. But with homesickness growing louder in Cam’s voice each time they spoke, could Nic afford to ignore this offer?
Did he want to stay here if the most important part of his team—of his family—were to leave? And there was no denying everyone would be safer if Nic wasn’t here. He’d proved his point this summer and on his first night back with the fire.
“The confirmation hearings won’t be easy,” he said, reminded of the skeletons that would no doubt be shaken loose.
“Is that a yes, then?” the Deputy AG asked.
“It’s not a no,” Nic said, hedging. He needed time to think and to see how other things shook out. “Can you give me to the end of the week to decide?”
“By all means but the sooner we can strategize on the hearings the better.”
“Understood, sir.” He thanked him again for the offer, then arranged with his secretary for a call on Friday.
When he hung up, it was to the whoosh of blood in his ears, held at bay somehow during that brief yet momentous conversation. This was not a decision he’d anticipated having to confront so soon. Mel had vaguely hinted at it on the plane ride back—had she known?—but he’d not known of the opening, hadn’t even contemplated it in the current political climate. Truth be told, if he could have any position, it would be the one Bowers held, here in San Francisco with his friends and family and Gravity. But that position wasn’t open and even if it were, would staying here put all those people and things he valued most in more danger?
“We’re ready.”
Turning, Nic found Lauren waiting in the doorway. “She’s here?”
“Holding Room Two.”
With a witness in holding and Cam on a clock that could stop at any minute, a decision, much less deliberation, on San Diego would have to wait. He had to focus on the here and now.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the folder again and followed Lauren across the FBI bullpen, sparsely populated at the lunch hour. She handed him a comm device that she would use to feed him analytics from the room’s biometric equipment. “You sleep any last night?” she asked, glaring up at him.
“Not much.” He tucked the comm in his ear. “You?” he asked her back as she trudged into the observation room. She looked as tired as he felt, now helping on this matter, digging into Vaughn, and covering who knew how many other cases. She was FBI-San Francisco’s best hacker, a top-notch analyst, and more than capable in the field. Great for job security; hell on sleep.
“Nada.” She returned with two coffees, a third visible on her desk in the room. “That’s why God invented Starbucks.”
“I don’t think it was God who did this,” Nic said, claiming one of the cups. “More like the devil.”
She shrugged. “On zero hours of sleep, I’m not choosey.”
Nic nodded at the other cup in her hand. “Who’s that one for?”
“Becca.” She waited for Nic to tuck his folder under his arm before handing it to him. “I guarantee she hasn’t had good coffee since you put her behind bars. It’ll grease the wheels a bit, hopefully.”
“Good thinking.” She wasn’t a crack analyst for nothing. “All right, let’s do this.”
Nic pushed the door open, revealing Rebecca Wright sitting on the other side of the table, looking radically different from the heist crew ringleader he and Cam had busted. Maybe it was realizing she’d been played by her client on that job. Or maybe it was the orange jumpsuit versus her leather boots and bustier. But sitting there, purple streaks gone from her limp black hair, sans makeup, in an oversized jumpsuit and with one hand chained to the desk, she looked far removed from criminal mastermind and far younger than her thirty-one years.
But her dark eyes still spit fire and cased every corner of the room and everything in it, including him. Assessing, needing to be in control, no matter how tiny the confines. “Well, if it isn’t the attorney my girl picked over me.”
“She picked her sister over you.”
Becca tried to hide her flinch, but Nic saw it and the monitors read it, Lauren reporting so in his ear. It was a good test, if unplanned.
“Your ex and her sister are doing well.” Nic pushed a cup toward her. “If that matters to you.”
She took a dainty sip, pretending like it was any other coffee. “I realize I might not have treated her well.”
“Sucks being betrayed, doesn’t it?”
Becca took a longer swallow, unable to fight the flutter of her eyelids. “What would you know about betrayal?”
