by Layla Reyne
Barrel Proof
By Layla Reyne
FBI agents Aidan “Irish” Talley and Jameson “Whiskey” Walker can’t get a moment’s peace. Their hunt for the terrorist Renaud seems to be nearing an end, until a fire allows him to slip through their fingers—and puts Jamie’s life in danger. When Jamie is nearly killed, Aidan learns how many forms loss can take.
Aidan says I love you just moments before learning that Jamie’s been keeping a devastating secret about Aidan’s late husband. How quickly trust and love can go up in flames. When Aidan requests a solo undercover assignment, Jamie hopes Aidan will find a way to forgive him.
But the explosions are far from over. Aidan’s cover lands him in the heart of the terrorist’s conspiracy, and Jamie will have to put his life, his career and his freedom on the line to save the man who has become his entire world. Partners, always is a promise he intends to keep.
This book is approximately 62,000 words
One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!
Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Deborah Nemeth
Dedication
To coffee and whiskey, because obviously...
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Acknowledgments
Also by Layla Reyne
About the Author
Chapter One
Hair a wet, windswept mess, brow drenched with sweat and ocean spray, Jamie fought a battle against his angry stomach.
And lost.
He launched out of Aidan’s arms and heaved over the speedboat’s portside rail, spilling his gut’s meager contents into the night-darkened depths of the Caribbean.
Thank fuck he hadn’t had a spare second the past twelve hours to put more in it.
There’d been no time for food or even the visas and clearances FBI agents needed to legally travel to Cuba. Thankfully, Jamie was traveling with the heirs to the Talley shipping empire. Aidan’s brother Danny had made a couple quick calls and by the time their chartered flight arrived in Montego Bay, a private car had been waiting to take them to a gated marina and a fueled and ready 3100 Coronet.
But while Aidan and Danny could magically summon a half-million-dollar boat, they couldn’t conjure Jamie’s sea legs. Reduced to dry heaves, he straightened and sat back on his haunches, gulping lungfuls of salty air.
One hundred fifty miles north from Montego Bay to Santiago de Cuba. He’d thought he could hack it.
Aidan brushed the matted hair off his forehead. “I thought you spent college summers deep-sea fishing?”
“The first few days of which were always spent doing this.”
They hit another patch of rough chop, the speedboat’s nose rocking up and down as it blasted through waves, and Jamie bolted for the rail again.
“Easy, baby bro,” Aidan shouted over the roar of the engines.
Danny didn’t let up on the throttle. “Less than twenty miles to go. We need to get inside the maritime border before the next sweep.”
“This ain’t Miami Vice, Daniel.”
The “ain’t” in Aidan’s full Irish brogue, combined with the reference to a Michael Mann film, drew a laugh from Jamie, a welcome respite from the retching. Unfolding, he caught his breath and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “It’s fine. We don’t have time to waste.”
Aidan’s arms circled him from behind, pulling him back-to-chest into the corner where they’d huddled together on the deck between his bouts of nausea. Aidan swept back his unruly hair again and kissed his temple. “You’re no good to anyone if we get there and you’re too weak to stand.”
Shifting, he curled into Aidan’s chest and clutched his jacket lapels, trying to block out thoughts of what might await them in Cuba.
Impossible.
From Aidan’s fingers digging into his arms, the hold just shy of desperate, to the tension evident in Danny’s frame, rigidity Jamie had never before seen in his usually relaxed bearing, they all had one thing—one woman—on their minds.
Special Agent in Charge Melissa Cruz.
Danny’s girlfriend. Jamie and Aidan’s boss. And Aidan’s best friend and late husband’s sister.
She’d stolen Danny’s private jet and flown to Cuba, where her uncle leased property to the terrorist who’d made their lives a living hell. Mel was either flying solo, risking her life for a vengeance-fueled takedown, or she was a terrorist herself. There was no way to know what he, Aidan and Danny were walking into. And Jamie knew nothing about Roberto Gabriel Marcelo.
Jamie laid his head on Aidan’s shoulder, mouth close to his ear so he didn’t have to shout. “Tell me about Uncle Robert.”
Bending his knees, Aidan caged him in, his hold absolute. “Their mother’s oldest brother. Big man, huge, and a total hard-ass.”
“You’ve met him?”
“He flew in for my and Gabe’s wedding, though it was mostly to see Mel.”
“He and Gabe didn’t get along?”
Aidan clenched his teeth, jaw flexing where it rested atop Jamie’s head. “Gabe wasn’t tough enough for him.”
Jamie pulled back, meeting Aidan’s hard eyes. “How is that possible?” Aidan’s late husband was one of the few people Jamie had ever met who was larger than him. The former-defensive-tackle-turned-investment-banker could have crushed his skull with a single blow. “Was it because he was gay?”
Aidan’s gaze drifted out over the turbulent water. “Maybe, in some part, but I think it had more to do with the fact Gabe didn’t serve. Robert was military, then police.”
“Mel was his favorite, then?”
Aidan’s eyes swung back to him. “Robert taught her everything she knows. How to fire a gun, how to fight, how to disarm. She came into the Academy knowing all that. She was terrifying.”
“If they were that close...”
“Then she might be working with him. It has to be considered.”
Jamie reached up a hand, cradling Aidan’s face, fingertips ruffling the ends of his auburn hair. “You decide how we play this, Irish. She’s your family.”
“Not if she’s responsible for getting the people I care about killed, including you or Danny.”
“I’m not getting killed.”
Aidan nuzzled his hand. “You keep saying that, baby, but I don’t know if I believe you.”
Baby.
Aidan had never used the endearment before, and Jamie was surprised by the tidal wave of dissonance it created. Warmth and affection, undercut by crushing guilt. Eyes closed, he hid from everything, burying once more into Aidan’s chest.
They stayed wrapped together until the boat slowed. “Hey, lovebirds,” Danny called from where he stood behind the wheel. “Come tell me how we’re going to play this.”
Aidan hesitated. Whether to prevent his brother
from being an accomplice, more so than he already was, or because Aidan thought he was protecting Danny, Jamie didn’t know.
What he did know, though, was that it was a wasted effort.
Danny was going after the woman he loved, one way or another. There’d be no telling him to stay behind. Danny had faced down a bomb with Mel and Aidan. He wouldn’t stand down now.
“It’s Mel,” Jamie said, voice lowered so only Aidan could hear. “Your brother, the hapless accomplice, is in this, whether you want him to be or not. Given this—” he waved at their luxurious, under-the-radar chariot “—and the other skills he’s proved the past several months, he’s not so hapless after all.”
“Lock picking does not qualify him to storm Robert’s compound.”
“No, love does.” Aidan pressed his lips into a thin, resigned line. “I’m assuming he also knows how to shoot?”
Aidan nodded.
“Good.” Jamie put a hand on Aidan’s shoulder and wobbled to his feet. “Come on, then.”
Aidan stood, wedged a shoulder under his, and they crossed the deck to Danny.
“Pen and paper?” Jamie said.
“In the cabin downstairs,” Danny replied.
Aidan leaned him against the copilot seat and descended the stairs, the cabin door swinging shut behind him.
“When are you going to tell him?”
Jamie’s head whipped to the side, eyes clashing with Danny’s black ones.
“And don’t play dumb,” Danny added. “Your Linda Blair impression just now gave you away.”
“You know about...?” He let the question hang, on the off chance luck was on his side for a change. If Danny didn’t already know about Gabe, Jamie didn’t want to tell him before he told Aidan.
“About his husband working for Renaud, yes.”
Jamie’s stomach threatened to heave again. There was no chance Aidan wouldn’t learn the truth before sunrise—that Gabe had laundered money for Pierre Renaud through holding companies the terrorist used to leverage his pawns. The truth Jamie had known for months and kept from Aidan.
“I overheard you and Mel on the phone,” Danny said. “Night before last.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Because you love him, and he loves you. We worried, after Gabe’s death, if he’d ever find happiness again. You gave him that, and we love you for it.”
“Danny,” Jamie choked out. He’d somehow been accepted into Aidan’s incredible family, while keeping from them, from Aidan, a devastating truth.
One that put all their lives in jeopardy.
“Because of that, I was willing to give you time to tell him. But that window is closing fast.” As if proving Danny’s point, the glow of Santiago de Cuba appeared on the dark horizon.
Jamie rested his forearms on the elevated chair and hung his head. “I wanted the full story before I told him. I had it, then our last case went sideways, and now, turns out I didn’t have it after all.”
Danny’s laugh was as cold and heavy as the ocean breeze around them. “You’re never going to have this whole story, and every day you lie to him, it’ll hurt more in the end.”
Jamie sensed he wasn’t only talking about Aidan. His deception, and more so Mel’s, had hurt Danny too.
Jamie reached out an arm, grabbing the other man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Need to hear it from her too.” Danny’s dark eyes glittered. “Need to get her back most of all.”
“Everything okay?” Aidan asked from the foot of the stairs.
“Yeah,” Danny said, as Jamie withdrew.
Aidan climbed the steps, glancing back and forth between them. Jamie held his hand out for the pen and paper, and Aidan slapped them into his palm, his gaze questioning, silently asking for reassurance.
Jamie nodded and swiped his thumb over the back of his hand, offering what comfort he could. It was enough, for now. Aidan’s shoulders relaxed and he stepped to his side.
As Danny further throttled down the boat, Jamie spread the paper out on the dash, flipped on the splash-screen light, and drew a rough outline of the area. “With the port here—” he marked the main port on the western side of the historic city’s long channel “—Santiago makes sense as a base of operations. That said, Robert’s property is a ways inland.” He made another mark farther west. “It’s past the town and into the hills.”
Aidan tapped at the map. “Do we think he’s using Robert’s property as a transit site?”
Jamie shook his head. “He has port yards for that. Interpol confirmed. Ten to one, Robert’s property inland is a hideout.” Jamie was less sure whether Robert was sheltering Renaud as part of an alliance or if Renaud had leveraged him too. The answer to that question could be the difference between recon, extraction or an all-out firefight.
Stepping back, Aidan pulled first one, then his other sidearm, from his shoulder holster, checking each mag. His autumn gaze was no longer questioning. “Not for much longer.”
Firefight it was, then.
* * *
Throw around enough US dollars, and even in the dead of night a boat could be covertly docked and a four-wheel drive secured. It also helped that all three of them spoke Spanish, Jamie’s fluency surprising Aidan.
As did his partner’s ability to drive on barely-there dirt roads as well as he did on asphalt. Jamie probably could have driven the boat too, if he hadn’t been too busy puking his guts out. His condition had improved the instant his feet hit dry land, and now, behind the wheel of a Wrangler, he appeared most of the way back to normal. He barreled along the bumpy dirt road, speeding around curves, slinging loose gravel off unguarded cliffs, and dodging night creatures that dared cross their path.
“How much farther?” Danny asked from the backseat.
Aidan shifted sideways, bracing one hand on his headrest and the other on the overhead roll bar. “You saw the lease map,” he said to Jamie. “How long?”
“About ten miles, I think.”
Danny leaned forward between their seats. “You think?”
“Assuming the deckhand at the marina gave us accurate directions.”
“We paid him enough. They better be accurate.”
“Our bearing matches the map, and the terrain—” Jamie waved a hand toward the windshield, then snatched it back, clutching the wheel, as they hit another divot in the road “—is right for the area. Again, if the guy at the marina told us the truth, we should come up on a property fence a quarter mile out from the main house.”
Danny fell back with a huff, and Aidan stared at him through the seats. “Let’s go over this one more time.”
“You two go in first, I stay behind you, got it.”
“Daniel!” Aidan snapped. “You’re a civilian. I know you forget that sometimes but try to get it through that thick head of yours.”
Jamie laid a hand on his shoulder, and Aidan recalled his words from the boat. Danny was in love—for real, for the first time—and he was angry at Mel, worried for her safety and desperate to get her back. While not angry, Aidan understood that level of worry and desperation all too well, having his lover as his FBI partner.
“I’m sorry, baby bro,” he said, gentling his voice. “I know this is hard, but we have to get a lay of the land first.”
“Okay, Rambo.” He mimicked Aidan checking his guns on the boat earlier.
Danny’s joke defused the tension crowding the open-air Jeep. Chuckling, Aidan reached through the seats and squeezed his bouncing knee. “I fully intend to get Mel back tonight, peacefully or otherwise, but I’m not losing anyone else in the process. We do this slowly, carefully—”
“Irish,” Jamie said.
Aidan talked over him. “—smart, and no one...” His words died, though, with Danny’s wandering attention
, his brother’s gaze fixated over his shoulder.
Jamie slapped his thigh. “Aidan, look!”
Spinning in his seat, Aidan spotted a yellow-orange haze lighting the dark horizon. Dread slammed into him, rocketed up his throat and strangled his words.
“What’s that smell?” Danny said, voice as full of fear as Aidan’s insides.
Aidan inhaled, confirming what he didn’t want to believe. “Smoke.” He grasped the roll bar again, his desperation finally catching up to Danny’s. “Drive faster. Hurry!”
Jamie pushed the Wrangler to another gear Aidan didn’t think it had, revving the engine and trampling brush beneath its tires. The glow of flames grew brighter, the stench of smoke more acrid, and a wave of heat split across the windshield, enveloping them. They swung around a bend, and atop the hill ahead, the blazing compound came into full view. Flames licked the sky and smoke billowed gray against the dark night.
Levering up, Aidan gawked out the top of the vehicle. “Holy shit!”
Jamie floored it as Danny tugged Aidan down by the waistband. “New plan, Ai. Fuck recon.”
“I concur,” Jamie said.
Aidan nodded. The time for recon and sneak attacks was passed. Time to Rambo-up.
The dirt road they flew along pulled even with a barbed-wire fence and, a football field’s length ahead, a metal gate hung loosely together. Jamie bore down on it, gaining speed.
“You’re going through it, aren’t you?” Aidan said.
Blue eyes darted to his, both determined and terrified, then swung back to their target, steering them ahead like a battering ram.
“Put your head down!” Aidan shouted at Danny, a second before Jamie’s hand shoved Aidan’s to his knees.
Behind tightly closed lids, Aidan was no longer in a Jeep, on a dark night, about to raid Robert’s Cuban compound. He was in a Land Rover, in the early morning Texas light, racing through the streets of Galveston. He and Jamie were going to be smashed between two dark SUVs or crash through the orange-striped barrels ahead. He was going to die without knowing Jamie’s kiss, without discovering if he could fall in love again, without knowing if he already had.
