Single Malt

by Layla Reyne

  Walker signaled Aidan to wait and followed Barnes out the door. He slipped back into the interrogation room and sat across from Jo Ann. Aidan watched from the other side of the glass.

  “Jo Ann, just one more question. Did Terry or Eric pay you for helping them?”

  Tears filled her eyes again. “They didn’t have to. The threats were enough.”

  Walker covered her hand with his. “Thank you, Jo Ann. You’ve been a big help to this investigation.” She smiled through her tears, the Walker charm working its magic. He waited for two officers to arrive to escort her back to holding before he stepped back into the observation room.

  “That other account isn’t Jo Ann’s.”

  “No, it’s not,” Aidan agreed. “It’s for Hamilton’s other inside man. The one here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jamie poked his head out the door and checked that the hallway was clear. Confirmed, he closed the door and turned his attention back to his partner. “Wanted to be sure we didn’t have any eavesdroppers or interruptions.”

  With just the two of them in the room, Aidan had begun to pace its narrow length, his fingers twitching for an invisible pen. “Do you think Torres is the inside man?”

  Barely avoiding a collision, Jamie skirted past his partner and collapsed into one of the chairs along the back wall. Elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, he considered Aidan’s question. All clues pointed to Oscar—the computer skills, the shoddy police procedure, the waiting private sector job. In his gut, however, Jamie didn’t think Oscar was their guy.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Aidan nodded. “Torres is off the table, then.”

  “You’re just going to accept that?”

  “Your instincts are good, Whiskey.”

  Before Jamie could object to the weight of their investigation resting on his fledgling instincts, Aidan claimed the seat one over from him and pulled out his phone. Putting it on speaker, he laid it on the chair between them.

  After the third ring, Cruz answered. “What’ve you got for me?”

  “Are you on-site?” Aidan asked.

  “If by on-site you mean watching Don Juan Danny cozy up to some bimbo in an orange halter that should be illegal, then yes.”

  Aidan chuckled. “He has a type.”

  “Tú también, hermano.”

  So do you, brother.

  Aidan’s laughter died, and Jamie didn’t need four years of college Spanish to know that last bit was about him. Cruz hadn’t said a word to him this morning about violating Bureau policy, despite the mountain of evidence at the condo. Jamie wanted to know what she might have said to Aidan, but he’d had no opportunity to ask his partner about that or about where they stood after last night. Aidan had been on the phone with the field office the entire drive in, and it’d been nonstop chaos since they’d arrived.

  Because there was a bomb at the Port.

  That was the bomb Jamie needed to focus on. Not the one that exploded last night. But Cruz’s muttered Spanish had thrown him right back there. To the nagging doubts that had kept him up after Aidan had drifted off into dreamland. His mind had whirled with the implications of what they’d done. Violating Bureau policy, complicating their partnership, exposing them to potential scandal, possibly pushing Aidan into something he wasn’t ready for. Something Jamie might not be ready for either. Not to mention the injuries they’d ignored.

  At the same time, he’d known, deep down, that Aidan had needed last night, same as him. They’d needed to feel alive, spared from what could have been another tragedy in both their lives. But what troubled Jamie the most was that they’d been so good together—fit so perfectly, moved so seamlessly, felt so right. Did Aidan feel the same way? Or had he been a stand-in for someone Aidan wanted and could no longer have? Someone Jamie shared certain similarities with. Jamie didn’t think so. Aidan had called out his name in the throes of passion. But there was no denying both he and Gabe were tall, well-built, athletic, good with numbers—Aidan’s type—and Cruz was in a better position than anyone to recognize it.

  But she wasn’t lingering on the matter so neither could he. “Give me something to go on,” she said. “I’ve got a lot of ships and containers and not a lot of help here.”

  Putting his internal conflict aside, Jamie said, “We’ve got a name. Pierre Renaud. We’re working on specifics.”

  “Aidan, get that backup down here. Right now.” Cruz’s voice was more commanding than normal, and beneath the order lay the leading edge of alarm. Jamie wondered if that name meant something to her.

  “In motion. Gary’s coordinating backup, search and evac as we speak. We’re likely dealing with straight-up triggered explosives. Not a bioweapon.”

  “GNL was a diversion, on both fronts,” Jamie added, per their conversation that morning. “They were never after a bioweapon. They’ve got everything they need at the Port already.”

  “Shit!” That one word cracked like a whip, sharp and strident. “Backup, Aidan, now.” The pace of her high heels striking metal increased, reverberating over the line. She was running somewhere.

  “Mel, take care of my brother,” Aidan said, not hiding the fear in his voice.

  “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Don’t let anything happen to you either.”

  “Not planning on it.”

  She hung up and Aidan ran a hand over his face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Jamie brushed the backs of his fingers down Aidan’s arm. He didn’t know if this was okay, but the need to comfort won out. “They’ll be fine, Irish.”

  Terrified eyes met his, and Jamie was torn in two. Aching in his chest for Aidan’s turmoil, and elation that he’d let him see it, let him help carry the burden, even if only for a minute. Warmth flowed between them, through their locked gazes and through cotton and wool, until Aidan blinked slowly and reopened clear, focused eyes.

  It was a masterful demonstration of self-control.

  “All right then,” Jamie said, moving to stand. “Let’s go.”

  Aidan’s hand closed around his wrist. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Are you going to the Port?”

  Rising, Aidan pocketed the phone with one hand while the other remained wrapped around Jamie’s wrist, nothing but heat in his touch and his answer. “Yes.”

  “I don’t follow. I’m your partner. I’m going with you.”

  “I need you here, Jamie.”

  Jamie saw red and didn’t check his words or his spiteful tone. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, is it? Trot out the ‘Jamie’ whenever you want something.”

  Hurt flashed in Aidan’s eyes, and on its heels, the same terror he’d moments ago driven away. Terror for his loved ones caught in the crosshairs, and that was when Jamie got it.

  He wrenched his arm free and stepped back. “You want me out of the line of fire.”

  Aidan’s control slipped its leash a little more. “Whiskey,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “This is my job. I can protect myself and I can protect you. We’re partners. Do not leave me behind.”

  Eyes slipping shut, Aidan turned his face away and Jamie saw the effort it took to gather his control again. He cleared his throat and returned determined eyes to him. “You can do your job, Agent Walker, by finding the missing hacker. He or she has the potential to disrupt our entire operation. I want you and Torres here with Gary.” Aidan closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “I need someone I trust running point, and right now, that’s you and the two people I already have out in the field. No one else.”

  Aidan’s words, his arguments, were belied by the hand he’d laid over Jamie’s beating heart. “Alive” he said last night. Aidan needed him alive.

 
Well, he needed Aidan alive too. “This is bullshit.”

  “I know you don’t like this, but I need you to trust me.”

  Jamie clenched his jaw, biting back a retort.

  Aidan unfastened the gold and emerald cufflinks, reached for Jamie’s hand, and dropped them in his palm. “For Katie, if anything happens.”

  Jamie glanced down at the sparkling clovers in his hand, then back up at his partner, whose autumn eyes hid nothing now. Fear, resolve, desire, and something more Jamie didn’t want to put a word to for all the complications those four letters could bring.

  More than all those things, though, Aidan regarded him with trust.

  Trust that Jamie would cover his back and his heart, and the only way he could do that was to stay at the field office.

  “Fuck, Irish.” Jamie fisted the cufflinks and curled his other hand around Aidan’s neck, slamming their mouths and bodies together.

  It was desperate, it was messy, and it was the best kiss of Jamie’s life.

  He memorized Aidan’s coffee-infused taste, the rough slide of his tongue, and the silky press of his lips. Aidan’s hands tangled in his hair and clenched in his shirt, his lithe, hard body aligned perfectly with his own. And somewhere in the middle of the too brief kiss, Jamie understood Aidan’s decision. He’d had this once before and he’d lost it. Jamie couldn’t blame him for not wanting to lose the promise of it again.

  Separating, Jamie rested his forehead against Aidan’s. “I’ll stay.”

  A gust of warm breath rushed over his lips. “Thank you.”

  “Come back to me.”

  * * *

  Aidan’s cufflinks weighed heavy in Jamie’s pocket as he split his attention three ways between the back trace of yesterday morning’s hack, bank account records, and the operation in progress at the Port. Gary was in his office, ordering the cruise ship companies to divert their vessels, while Jamie and Oscar ran comms from the conference room. Not an easy task considering the number of law enforcement teams bearing down on the Port, Aidan and Todd’s mobile command unit in the lead.

  There were other agents in the conference room as well. Recruiting emergency responders from nearby counties, putting local hospitals on alert for explosion victims, harassing Swiss and Cayman bankers for account information. From the speaker on the phone in the center of the conference table, Jamie heard similar activity on his partner’s end.

  Since they didn’t know the exact size of the explosive or its blast radius, certain emergency personnel were held farther back while search teams, including Aidan’s, assembled in the well-positioned bank parking lot they’d used for their stakeout. All teams would gather and organize there before converging on the Port. By doing so, Aidan was buying Mel and Danny and him and Oscar time to pinpoint the location of the bomb.

  “You find anything in those manifests yet?” Jamie asked Oscar.

  They were reviewing manifests of docked ships and associated storage lots, searching for connections to Renaud. Anything that might tell them precisely what they were dealing with or where Hamilton might have assembled the explosive.

  Oscar made a few quick keystrokes, and a map of the Port and its storage lots appeared on the whiteboard at the end of the conference room, displayed by the overhead projector. Jamie swiveled in his chair and rolled closer to get a better look. Red cross-marks in five different locations dotted the Port’s acreage. “I’ve narrowed it down to these lots,” Oscar said. “Containers in these five areas originated from cities where Interpol reports Renaud has a base of operations.”

  Jamie glanced over his shoulder. “Cities?”

  Oscar nodded. “Yes, plural, and this is no guarantee. Renaud could have paid anyone for access to their containers or lots, but he probably has closer contacts in places where he regularly conducts business.”

  Giving the map a final glance, Jamie spun back around and rolled into place beside Oscar. “Something’s better than nothing.” He pulled the speakerphone closer, shouting Aidan’s name to get his attention on the other end. Together with Oscar, they brought him up to speed on the potential locations.

  “Good work,” he said. “We’ll move on those locations first, unless we hear otherwise from Mel. Teams are assembling. Will confirm when we’re on the move.”

  Aidan’s voice drifted away, his attention diverted to something Todd was saying about EMS teams. Jamie sank back in his chair, a giant knot forming in his gut. He hated being here while Aidan was out there. Granted, he could monitor all the operation’s moving parts from here while continuing to hunt for the missing piece that would foil this entire plot, but it felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else.

  As if hearing his thoughts, Oscar asked, “Why aren’t you out there?”

  “Aidan wanted someone he trusted running point, and I’m more useful doing this.” He skimmed his fingers over his keyboard.

  Oscar’s rapid keystrokes ceased and he angled toward him. Jamie expected Oscar’s knee to rub against his under the table, but no unwanted touch came and their bubble of silence in an ocean of noise grew heavy. So heavy Jamie was forced to look up and meet Oscar’s gaze.

  “I would have done the same thing,” he said.

  “Left me behind?”

  “Kept you alive.” He smiled softly—genuine—not his usual overly flirtatious self. “The world—his world—is a better place with you in it, Jamie. I wouldn’t risk you either. And he’s right; you’re far more valuable here.”

  Raw and exposed, Jamie hunched over his computer and sought comfort in the numbers and lines of code streaming across his screen. It took a few minutes to focus and realize what he was seeing. The simple elegance of the designs Dave Fuller had shown him and Aidan the other day at GNL. The designs Dave used to teach his crypto class at the local community college.

  “Excuse me a moment.”

  In the hallway, he pulled up Dave’s number and dialed. While Dave had been cleared of any wrongdoing, one of his students could be their missing hacker. Oscar, Jamie recalled, had done two years at the community college before transferring to UT.

  “Agent Walker,” Dave greeted. “I hear we’re out of the woods here.”

  “GNL, yes, the Port, no. There could still be another breach. The persons behind this are attempting to divert emergency responders from the Port, but we don’t think anyone’s actually trying to take biological agents out of GNL.”

  “Thank heavens.”

  “Stay vigilant, though. With the Port operation going on, we won’t have extra hands to help you shut down any intrusions.”

  “I’ve got Jake and Mike here with me.”

  “That’s good,” Jamie said. “Dave, I’m calling about that list of your top crypto students. Did you get clearance to send it over yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, I just got off the phone with the dean. Give me a second and I’ll email it.” The tap of keystrokes was followed by the whoosh of sent email. “On its way.”

  Jamie checked his inbox, which after two forced pushes, brought up Dave’s email. “I’ve got it. Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

  Quickly scanning, he didn’t see Oscar’s name anywhere on the list. Starting from the top again, he read more slowly and his breath caught at the fifth name down.

  Gary Clark.

  Gary Clark who was absent right now and, thinking back, had been absent during each other breach. Gary Clark who let Oscar bear the brunt of their suspicion. Gary Clark, SAC of the FBI’s Texas City Field Office, who had more than enough juice to threaten Port employees into silence and pressure Terry and Jo Ann into assisting Hamilton.

  Closing his email, Jamie dialed his partner.

  “What’ve you got?” Aidan answered.

  “Step out of the van.” Jamie didn’t want the agents in the conference room to overhear their conversa
tion through the speakerphone.

  “I’ll be right back,” he heard Aidan tell Todd, followed by the click and thunk of heavy van doors. The sirens and shouted commands of the staging area filtered over the line before things quieted, indicating Aidan had found someplace relatively private. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m looking at Dave Fuller’s list of his top crypto students.”

  “That finally came through. Torres on it?”

  “No, but Gary Clark is.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Afraid not.” Half a second later, the intrusion alarm on Jamie’s phone blared.

  “Shit, he’s inside the system again.” Jamie spun on his heel toward the conference room and was brought up short by the business end of a Glock 22.

  “No, I’m right here.” Gary stood ten feet away, right arm raised, gun pointed at Jamie, center mass. “You’re too late, Agent Walker. It’s already in motion. The cruise ships are pulling into dock, EMS is too far away, and the bomb is set to blow. Now, put the phone down.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Then I’ll put you down.”

  Jamie couldn’t say which was louder—the gunfire that erupted or Aidan’s screams from the phone in his hand.

  He twisted just in time, the phone clattering to the floor as Gary’s bullet whizzed past his shoulder and lodged in the plastered wall behind him, sending chunks of concrete flying. On its heel, the report of a second shot and more flying plaster. Gun arm wavering, a streak of red bloomed on the outside of Gary’s right shoulder, bleeding through his sweat-stained dress shirt. Hunched over, he clasped his arm, and Oscar stood behind him with his weapon raised, his tan face pale and lined in shocked anger. Before he could say anything, though, Gary straightened and lurched forward, lifting his gun arm again and firing off another round.

  Jamie ducked his head and narrowly missed the second bullet. “Aim high!” he shouted at Oscar. Gary was a potential source of critical information; they needed to stop him without killing him. Jamie rushed forward, colliding with Gary’s midsection. Another shot jolted the older man’s upper body, a direct hit to the shoulder, and Jamie rocketed up, sending Gary tumbling over his back. Spinning, Jamie came down on top of Gary, a knee to his back and a forearm across his shoulder blades, but not before Gary managed to get his left arm free and with it, his gun. Despite the awkward grip, Gary moved to lift his arm and Jamie pressed his elbow into his wounded shoulder, causing the raised shooting arm to fall.