Single Malt

by Layla Reyne

  “The cops ruled it otherwise? You left out their final conclusions.”

  “I didn’t want to bias yours.” Aidan set his cup aside and shifted to face him once more. “They ruled it a random hit-and-run. Said I didn’t swerve out of the way fast enough.”

  “Bullshit,” Jamie said, furious on Aidan’s behalf. “That accident was not random and there was nothing you could have done to avoid it.”

  Aidan’s tortured gaze drifted out over the court again. “You don’t know that.”

  Jamie grasped his arm and waited for Aidan to return his attention. “Look, we’re just getting to know each other, but you said it yourself, I’m good with cars. So trust me when I tell you there was nothing you or anyone else behind the wheel could have done to avoid that collision. Hell, even I couldn’t have swerved fast enough, and I smoked everyone’s ass on the road course, including my own.” Drawing a short, surprised laugh from Aidan, Jamie counted it a win. “We gonna continue investigating this?”

  “Yeah.” Aidan rose, and Jamie was doubly pleased to see some of the tension he’d carried in with him gone. “Keep it off the books for now, until we know more.”

  Jamie followed, getting to his feet and handing Aidan his suit jacket, vest and cufflinks. “I can set something up for us, on a different channel, so to speak.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  Aidan’s wicked grin sent a shiver racing through Jamie. Thankfully, before he opened his mouth and said too much again, Aidan’s cell rang. He stepped away, taking the call, and Jamie ducked into the locker room. Five minutes later, freshly showered and suited, he came back out on the court just as Aidan hung up.

  “That was Cameron Byrne. He’s here on a kidnap and rescue matter tied to one of my old cases. Sounds like we could use your cyber expertise. You want in?”

  By the look in his autumn eyes, Aidan was asking about more than just the K&R case. Jamie answered both the spoken and unspoken question. “I’m in.”

  Chapter Three

  Absolution.

  Something neither the doctors nor the detectives had been able to give Aidan for eight long months, and Jameson Walker gave it to him in five days. Aidan had known his “for a jock” comment was unfair; the kid’s file proved as much. He’d had no doubt Walker would impress him. He hadn’t expected him to upend his world, freeing him of the guilt that had plagued him since the night of the accident.

  No, not an accident. Not a hit-and-run. A hit, plain and simple. Mel suspected it; Walker confirmed it. Now, all Aidan wanted to do was work with Walker to get to the bottom of it, but Cameron Byrne needed his assistance.

  Byrne specialized in kidnap and rescue cases, particularly those involving children. With six nieces and nephews, and a seventh on the way, Aidan never ignored his calls for help, on the off—terrifying—chance he might need Byrne to return the favor one day. But the thirty-something Bostonian was not an easy man to work with. He played strictly by the rules, rarely cracked a smile, and had a dark temper to match his black eyes and hair. Aidan didn’t expect Walker’s laid-back manner and oozing charm to go over well with the surly Byrne.

  Make that the second time he’d misjudged his new partner.

  They walked into Byrne’s war room, and Aidan moved to introduce them but stalled when Byrne’s dark gaze snagged on Walker and his round face broke into a beaming grin. Aidan stood, frozen in surprise, as Walker brushed past him and greeted Byrne in a backslapping man hug.

  “Three years, Whiskey,” Byrne said in his thick longshoreman’s accent. “You don’t call, you don’t write.”

  “I called your sorry ass last week,” Walker replied, smiling wide. “And you’re the one who can’t bother to stop by when you’re in town.”

  Byrne laughed and patted Walker’s cheek. “You got me there, brother.”

  He obviously meant it colloquially, but the way the two interacted reminded Aidan of the way he and his brother behaved. How far back did this bond between Walker and Byrne go? And why the fuck hadn’t Walker mentioned this on their way over?

  Forcing himself into motion, Aidan stepped forward and cleared his throat. “How do you two know each other?”

  They stood side by side, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. “This asshole—” Byrne tilted his head toward Walker “—broke my leg in a tourney game my junior year at BC. Stupid, earnest freshman that he was, he felt so guilty he offered to take my place in my dad’s crew that summer.”

  “Your dad’s crew?” Aidan asked. He couldn’t mean Irish mob. Aidan knew every face on that particular board and Cameron was nowhere on it.

  “Deep sea fishing,” Byrne answered. “I was mobile enough to cook and navigate and clean cabins, but I was no good on deck. Jamie filled in for me, after the pretty Southern boy got his sea legs under him.”

  “Oh, God.” Walker clutched his stomach, equal parts groaning and laughing. “Don’t remind me.”

  Byrne elbowed him in the ribs. “So much beef stew.”

  Walker threw out an arm, swatting at him. “You are the worst best friend ever.”

  Dodging the flailing limb, Byrne laughed and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Talley, it’s good to see you, and thanks for agreeing to help.”

  Shaking his hand, Aidan struggled to come to terms with this alternate reality where Cameron Byrne laughed and Jameson Walker was his best friend. Was the world coming to an end? Could his partner charm snakes? Facing information overload, he clicked into professional gear and cut short the bizarre reunion. “What’ve you got for us?”

  “This case isn’t pretty, but you’re just the two agents I need.”

  * * *

  Byrne was right. It wasn’t a pretty case. It was uglier than most, in fact. Over the next five days, Aidan drank his weight in coffee, hardly slept, and saw so many pictures of exploited children the coffee was all he could hold down. They were searching for a kidnapped preteen who’d turned up in a pornography reel accessed, via prison library computer, by a sex trafficker Aidan had collared two years ago. Aidan and Byrne pursued the ring the old-fashioned way—through muscle and interrogation—while Walker followed their electronic and financial trails.

  Together, their efforts led to an abandoned Pescadero property near the coast. With SWAT teams behind them, they converged on the five-acre parcel, each taking one of the three dilapidated structures. Out of the Friday morning fog, they carried a dozen missing children to safety, filled two prison vans with handcuffed criminals, and confiscated enough hard drives and other electronics equipment to keep Walker busy for days.

  Throughout the investigation, Walker improved Byrne’s mood, and it was by far the best working experience Aidan had ever had with the K&R specialist, despite the wear and tear of the case, physically and emotionally. As with Byrne, Walker charmed every other agent and officer they came into contact with, and when it came to the takedown that morning, he followed orders to a T and secured his structure before either Aidan or Byrne cleared theirs.

  Aidan was impressed all right and giving serious consideration to trusting Walker with the flash drive burning a hole in his pocket. It wasn’t the same one Mel had given him. Instead, he’d copied onto a blank one the two financial records Grace had cracked and two more encrypted files of the same type and size, assuming they’d also be bank records. He wanted to know if they led back to the detectives who’d swept his dead husband and dead partner’s case under the rug. After Walker’s work on Byrne’s case, Aidan had no doubt his partner could follow this financial trail, and if he asked, decrypt the rest of the original jump drive’s files. A test first, though.

  But before they could get to that, Byrne wanted to have drinks with them before catching his flight home.

  They’d agreed to meet at a bar and grill near UN Plaza. Aidan pulled open the heavy wooden doors, pushed throug
h the blue draft curtains, and scanned the crowded, cavernous space. Two—and four-top low tables to the left, all of them full; high-top tables in the middle, large groups standing around each; a big antique wooden bar to the right, three rows deep of people. Owner Sullivan Baxter was one of the two bartenders behind the bar, darting back and forth as he pulled bottles off the staggered shelves. When Sully spotted him, his eyes widened in surprise then warmed in greeting. He waved and pointed toward the far end of the bar.

  Jacket and tie gone, sleeves rolled up, Walker stood with Byrne on one side and a stunning curly-haired brunette on the other. Aidan recognized her as Sully’s wife and executive chef, Valentina. Rising on her toes, Tina whispered something in Walker’s ear and he laughed out loud. Every pair of female eyes in the crowded restaurant, along with a few male ones, turned to check him out.

  Fuck, he was gorgeous, and so very off-limits. As if sensing his presence, Walker glanced up at him, a wide smile splitting his handsome face. Aidan shoved aside every inappropriate thought that raced through his mind, unbuttoned his suit coat, and snagged the glass of Maker’s Sully left for him at the end of the bar.

  “Talley, it’s about time,” Byrne said, as Aidan joined their group. “I’ve got to head out soon, and I’m not sure I can trust Jamie’s virtue to this vixen.” He gave Tina a wink.

  Cameron Byrne drinking. Cameron Byrne winking. Definitely an alternate reality.

  “Aidan, so good to see you.” Tina stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Ha sido de largo.”

  It had been too long. Eight months and fifteen days, to be exact. He, Gabe and Tom had been on their way from here to Tom’s place in the Outer Richmond the night of the accident.

  Shaking off the dark thoughts, he returned Tina’s embrace. “Good to see you too, hermosa.”

  “Gorgeous,” she scoffed, then switched back to Spanish, complaining that he hadn’t brought his gorgeous new partner to visit yet. Never mind that Tina was happily married; she enjoyed a good-looking man as much as Aidan did. “You always have the best luck.”

  “Not so lucky this time. The kid’s my work partner, and he’s straight.”

  She laughed at the same time Walker’s empty glass hit the bar, hard, startling them both.

  “Where are our manners?” Tina switched fluidly back to English. “Sorry about that; bad habit of ours. Another round?”

  Byrne nodded and she scurried behind the bar, calling to Sully for two whiskeys and a Dr. Pepper.

  “So, Talley,” Byrne said. “I gotta thank you and Cruz for getting Jamie out in the field. Waste of talent, him hiding behind that computer all day.”

  “Some would say it’s a waste of talent he’s not on the court.”

  Walker sighed. “I’m standing right here.”

  Byrne shrugged and paid him no mind, just like an older brother. “You can try having that argument with him. Speaking from experience, it won’t get you anywhere. Besides, that was talent out in the field today too.” He clapped his meaty hand on Walker’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You did good. Knew there was a reason I recruited you.”

  Walker’s attractive, embarrassed blush gave way to an even more attractive smirk. “You mean it wasn’t because I—”

  “Jameson,” Byrne growled, cutting him off and making them all laugh. Aidan would have to get that story out of Walker. Tina came back with their drinks, and after a little more ribbing, mostly at Walker’s expense, Byrne downed his whiskey, shook Aidan’s hand, and gave Walker another hug, holding him longer this time. “It was good to see you, brother,” he said, loud enough for Walker to hear over the crowd, meaning Aidan heard too. “Even better to work with you. Proud of you, Jamie.”

  “Thanks, Cam. Tell Pops and the boys hello for me.”

  “They want to see you.”

  “How about I swing up next time I’m home?”

  “It’s a plan,” Byrne said, before turning to Aidan. “You hold him to it.”

  He nodded. “Count on it.”

  Walker pushed through the crowd with Byrne to the door, and by the time he made his way back, Aidan had snagged two barstools. “So where’s home now? Rockingham or Oak Island?”

  Wide blue eyes shot to his. “You’ve read my file?”

  “You haven’t read mine?” Walker shook his head. “I’ll have my assistant get it for you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Don’t you want to know who you’re working with?”

  “I know who I’m working with,” he drawled, low and husky. It was as if Walker flirted without meaning to, like it was all part of the Southern charm he couldn’t help exude.

  “So, you and Byrne,” he deflected. “That’s more than one summer at sea together.”

  “What do you mean?” Walker looked nervous all of a sudden.

  “You two remind me of me and my brother. That kind of relationship takes time, not one summer together.”

  Walker relaxed and sipped at his soda. “It was eight summers, during undergrad and grad school when I was at MIT. That first year was the best haul Pop Byrne ever had. Called me his good luck charm and insisted I go out with them at least once each summer.”

  “Superstitious much?”

  “Come on, Irish.” Walker jostled his shoulder. “Your family runs a shipping empire. You of all people should know how superstitious sailors are.”

  Aidan side-eyed him. “Oh, so you have read my file?”

  That mischievous smirk was back with a vengeance. “Not your FBI file...”

  “I don’t want to know.” Aidan shook his head in reluctant surrender and downed the rest of his whiskey.

  Once he stopped laughing, Walker angled toward him, one elbow resting on the bar. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for bringing me in on this one. It was great working with Cam.” His gaze went to the glass of ice in his hand and he added softly, “And with you.”

  Aidan took the glass out of his hand, drawing his gaze again. “Byrne’s right. You did good, Whiskey. You impressed me.” He smiled, earnest and true, and Aidan made his decision. Setting the glass on the bar, he reached inside his suit jacket, pulled out the flash drive, and slid it across the bar to Walker. “A reward, of sorts.”

  He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. “What’s on it?”

  “Files connected to our other investigation.” Jamie’s eyes darted back to his. “Bank account ledgers from a file my sister decrypted, plus two more encrypted files. Probably the same, given the type and size. I want to know what we’re looking at exactly and who the accounts belong to.”

  “Maybe I should see if they lead back to the detectives who investigated your accident, seeing as they covered up a crime.”

  “I think that’d be a good place to start.” Assured of his decision, Aidan withdrew his wallet, slid a fifty across the bar to Sully, and slipped off his stool. “Mom’s babysitting my niece tonight. Friday ritual. I promised to swing by and read her a story before bed.”

  “Read her one for me too,” Walker said with a sad smile. “After the week we’ve had...” Further evidence all that charm was one hundred percent genuine.

  “I’ll do that.” Aidan buttoned his jacket. “I’m on lecture panels at Hastings with Mel Monday and Tuesday. Let’s plan to debrief on Wednesday morning.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You need a ride?”

  Spinning on his stool, Walker rested his elbows behind him on the bar. “Think I’ll stay here and enjoy the scenery a little while longer,” he said, eyes roaming the crowd.

  Aidan figured he knew who Walker was looking for. “You saw the ring on her finger, right?”

  “Who?” Walker glanced back at him, doing an A-plus job of playing dumb.

  Chuckling, Aidan turned to leave with a “Night, Whiskey,” then stopped
when Walker called his name.

  “Thank you—” Walker palmed the flash drive “—for trusting me with this.”

  “You earned it.”

  Chapter Four

  Stepping outside his Bernal Heights home, Jamie’s world narrowed to a single point ten feet down the sidewalk. The racket of the morning commute dimmed, the riotous mix of city odors faded, and all his attention focused on the gleaming black sports car parked at the curb.

  And the man standing beside it.

  When Aidan texted a half hour ago that he’d pick him up on his way into the office, Jamie wasn’t sure what to expect. His partner standing in the open door of an Aston Martin Vanquish Carbon Edition had been nowhere on the list. Two things of beauty first thing in the morning. Not a bad start to his day.

  “We’ve got a meeting with Mel in twenty.” Aidan tossed him the car keys. “She’s got a new case for us.”

  That snapped Jamie out of his daze. Not the flying keys, nor the mention of a new case, but the insane notion of driving from here to UN Plaza, during rush hour, in anything less than thirty minutes.

  “Did you get into narco’s evidence stash over the weekend?” Jamie asked.

  “Mel wants you assessed for fieldwork. I want to see these legendary driving skills.”

  “Those were closed courses.”

  “If you don’t think you can handle it, I’ll drive.”

  Jamie grinned. “Oh, I can handle it.”

  Growing up seven miles from a NASCAR track, he’d spent countless hours of his childhood watching cars race and racing a few of his own. He still had relatives in North Carolina who ran moonshine down the mountain in Christmas trees. He could drive with the best of them. San Francisco drivers, however, were far from the best.

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s the rest of the idiot drivers in this city.”

  “Hey now...”

  He speared Aidan with a you-know-I’m-right look.