Page 39 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Cox had heard back from Andi’s bank. The fact that the agent had shown up in person to deliver the results on a weekend didn’t bode well.

“Okay.” She held up her hands in defeat.

As she turned and walked to the front door, he glimpsed Meera and Frank waiting in line for a table. They both waved to him, smiling.

He flexed his fingers, still feeling the warmth from Andi’s slim body. Aside from putting his hand on her shoulder, that had been the first time he’d touched her in two weeks. Two weeks of torture.

Keeping physical distance from her was driving him out of his mind. But he couldn’t go there. Not while she was still a suspect, and not while she was involved in this case.

Who am I kidding?

The real reason for keeping his distance was that his heart wasn’t capable of deep attachment. Innocent or not, she would always be out of his reach. Although for the first time since his wife died, he felt the undeniable urge to bash through that self-imposed barrier and see where he landed.

He tipped his chin in the direction of the temporary bartender Andi had hired to back him up tonight. Mark, a thirty-something guy with dark hair and brown eyes, nodded back, acknowledging Nick’s request that he cover him for a few minutes.

When he came around the outside of the bar to where Eric and Cox were seated, the first things he noted were the bags under Cox’s eyes and the worry lines on the man’s forehead.

“You look like shit. To what do I owe the honor of your presence on a Saturday night?” He looked from Eric to Cox, although his question was directed solely at the FBI agent.

Cox shot Nick a fuck-you look. “First off, there were no prints in Myer’s house besides his, Andi’s, and a housekeeper who cleans once a month.”

“And the cigarette butt outside the front door?” Nick asked.

Cox shook his head. “No prints and not enough DNA to run through CODIS.”

“You could have told me that Monday.” Nick crossed his arms, knowing damn well there was another reason for Cox’s visit.

“We still don’t know about Andi.”

His gut clenched. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” the agent continued, “the bank is dragging its ass getting back to us with more information on that wire transfer from her account. They said they’ll call us on Monday.” Cox’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately, that’s not all.”

“What else?” Whatever the man was about to say was the real reason they’d shown up on a Saturday night.

“I’ll take this one.” Eric pulled a few papers from his back pocket. “Myer slipped across the Canadian border through Quebec two weeks ago, the day before the search warrant. We don’t know how, but he did. Kade’s been spot-checking for border crossings, and somehow it never made it into the system until last night.”

“Two weeks ago?” He got in Cox’s face. “How did that happen with a Red Notice in place?” In his years with the state police, he’d grabbed several foreign criminals on Interpol Red Notices.

Cox took a resigned breath. “Because there was no Red Notice.”

“Come again?” Nick said in a pissed-off tone. “Because I must have misheard you.”

“You didn’t.” The agent shook his head. “Apparently, the DOJ attorney implementing the Red Notice went home early that day. Before filing the notice with Interpol. Naturally, that was the same day Myer slipped across the border.”

“Fuck.” He took a calming breath, resisting the urge to heave a nearby glass at the wall.

“We’re working with the Border Enforcement Security Task Force,” Eric said, pausing to glance at Tess as she strode through the dining tables, balancing a tray laden with dinner plates. “Between DHS, the Bureau, and the Mounties, maybe we can track his ass down.”

“Meanwhile,” Cox said as he got off his stool, “the AUSA wants you to stay put here. He’s convinced Myer will call Andi again.”

So was Nick, and that couldn’t happen soon enough. He’d concocted this plan for the sole purpose of getting to the gun dealer, but now what he needed more than anything was to get as far away from Andi as soon as possible. His personal feelings were more than beginning to cloud his professional judgment and mess with his impartiality. The only way to get reassigned was to see this case through to the end.

“Sorry, pal.” Cox sent him an apologetic look. “Stay in touch.”

“Right.” Hell.

The minute Cox was out the door, Eric threw down a twenty. “Buy you a beer? You look like you need it.”