Barrel Proof (Agents Irish and Whiskey)

by Layla Reyne

  “I won’t hold that awful joke against you, if you’ll get on with it.”

  Aidan ran his tongue up the underside of his cock, circling the tip then pulling off, torturous teasing. “You started the bad analogy.”

  Battle lost, Jamie tunneled his fingers through blond locks and forced Aidan’s gaze. “Shut up and eat, Irish.”

  The smirk turned into a full smile, then disappeared into an O around his cock, as Aidan swallowed him to the root.

  “Fuck, yes,” Jamie groaned. Fingers fisting in Aidan’s hair, he held on for the ride.

  Aidan slid up and down, tongue circling his head and teasing his slit with each pass, and when one hand drifted lower, fondling his balls and teasing his taint, Jamie almost fell over the edge. But he didn’t want to go like this.

  Alone.

  He’d had enough of that the past six weeks.

  “Baby, stop,” he said with a tug on Aidan’s hair. Brow furrowed, Aidan moved from his knees to a crouch, and Jamie slapped his hip. “Up.”

  “You can’t go on that leg.”

  “And you can’t go on like that,” Jamie countered, eyeing his tented slacks. Hand to his abs, Jamie pushed him back against the desk’s corner, the bag of peaches toppling and sending fruit scattering. He kicked a few out of the way and rolled his chair closer, spreading his legs on either side of Aidan’s.

  Aidan toyed with his hair, winding fingers through his curls. “You don’t have to,” he said, as Jamie undid his pants and pulled out his cock.

  “I missed you, too.” He spent a good two minutes kissing and teasing, before wrapping one hand around the base of Aidan’s shaft and taking himself in the other. “Not coming without you.”

  Aidan’s choked “Oh, God,” echoed in Jamie’s ears as he sucked Aidan in, groaning at the feel of Aidan’s cock on his tongue, at the musky, familiar smell filling his senses. He’d missed this, more than words could say, so he showed Aidan instead. With his mouth, taking it slow despite his own blinding need. With his hand, slipping in a finger alongside Aidan’s cock, wetting it, then sliding it down the crease of his sack, returning the teasing touch.

  Worshiping.

  Until Aidan’s hand fisted in his hair, nails raking over his scalp, and Jamie’s answering groan caused Aidan’s cock to swell. Orgasm barreling toward him, Jamie’s touch became demanding, his whole hand palming Aidan’s balls, his taint, fingers teasing his hole, while stroking himself faster.

  “Gonna come,” Aidan gasped, and Jamie moaned his agreement.

  It was all the go ahead either of them needed, Aidan spilling down his throat, and Jamie into his fist, greedy for all of it. For them, together again, no longer alone.

  Jamie licked and nuzzled until the mess in his hand demanded attention. A step ahead of him, Aidan shoved a wad of napkins in his face. Jamie slumped back in his chair, wiping his hands, while Aidan tucked them both back into their slacks. Jamie pitched the wad of paper into the trash then rolled closer to Aidan, who was still resting back against the desk. He ran his hands up his thighs, as Aidan had done his earlier, then around so he could hold Aidan and lay his head against his chest. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

  Aidan hugged him closer. “I know, I know, but we didn’t get to finish what we started at the Tavern, and a certain little lady, and a certain grumpy brother, reminded me how much I loved you.” Aidan dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “And I needed to know what’s going on.”

  Jamie looked up at him. “If Renaud or anyone from Pearl saw you come in...”

  “Stop worrying.” He crouched again and grabbed the brace. Jamie’s heart expanded as Aidan put it back on him. “I drove Grace’s kid bus and kept an eye on my six the entire way.”

  “Kid bus?”

  “Minivan from hell.” Brace done, Aidan stayed kneeling, picking up the errant fruit. “Thing handles like shit.”

  Jamie laughed. “Especially after driving the Chevelle every day.”

  “You know you’re never getting it back, right?”

  “I’ll put your name on the title.” The words were out before Jamie caught them, but he didn’t regret the presumptive offer, especially when Aidan rose, dropped the fruit in the bag, and kissed him long and deep, every bit of affection returned. Not a bit of anger. Jamie had his partner back, and he smiled wide against Aidan’s lips. They only broke apart, with light pecks, when Jamie’s computer beeped.

  “What’s that?” Aidan turned sideways, hip to the desk. He’d kept one peach, bit into it, and Jamie had to force himself not to drag him down for another kiss, daydreaming about Aidan’s light and dark taste tinged with sweetness. He was getting hard again already. “Earth to Whiskey.”

  Shaking out of the daydream, Jamie cleared his throat, adjusted his slacks, and rolled forward to the computer. “Facial recognition finishing up.”

  “You got a hit tonight?”

  Jamie nodded as he typed, making adjustments as the image continued to resolve. “Weiss’s crash was a little different than Galveston or your previous accident.”

  “How so?”

  “There were two cars again, but one was an SUV and the other was a sports car, tailing Weiss. At first, we thought it was propelling Weiss or signaling to someone else, but it looks like it was following in order to retrieve something out of AD Weiss’s car. We got an ATM screen grab of the driver.”

  “What was he after?”

  “Another flash drive.”

  Aidan’s eyes widened. “Encrypted?”

  “Yeah.” He flipped to his remote server, showing Aidan the decryption in progress. “Program is working on it. It doesn’t look as layered as the previous one so I should have it cracked this morning.” The computer pinged again, and Jamie flipped back to the facial recognition software.

  “We have no idea what Renaud looks like,” Jamie said. “Could be him, or not.”

  The final picture resolved into a familiar face, and its perfect match opened up in an adjacent window.

  “Or,” Aidan said, “it could be the lead we’ve been waiting for.”

  Jamie stared at the two pictures—one from Weiss’s crime scene, the other from Martin Westley’s paralegal certificate.

  Chapter Eight

  With the sweeper Jamie insisted he take, Aidan checked his office for bugs first thing the next morning. Cleared, he tossed the device in his briefcase and paced in front of the windows, eyes scanning the parking lot. All the usual cars, plus two unmarked cruisers. One had followed Lauren in, the other him. Same as it had followed him home from the Bureau a few hours ago.

  Aidan would have rather gone home with Jamie. Slept next to him if nothing else. But by the time they’d finished debriefing Mel and Nic on the Westley development, Jamie had that hacker glint in his eye. Aidan had snagged two more peaches and left his partner with a long, lingering kiss and a fresh pot of coffee, caught a couple hours of sleep at his place, then headed in to Pearl.

  “Keep that up, and you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet.” Lauren stood in his doorway, weighted down by two laptops and Pearl’s hefty SOP binder.

  He rushed across the space and relieved her of the binder and a laptop. “I pace, a lot. Occupational hazard. You’ll get there one day.”

  “Good.” She kicked the glass door closed and flopped into the visitor chair. “Less gym time.”

  Chuckling, he nodded at the computer in her lap. “What’ve you got there?” The one he’d carried in for her—slim line, HP, enterprise—was identical to his Pearl-issued model. The other one bore an Alienware logo and a Harry Potter decal. Definitely not standard issue.

  “Jamie worked something up for me.”

  Aidan shook his head, smiling. “House Ravenclaw?”

  “‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.’” She op
ened the laptop and her fingers flew. “Don’t let the humor fool you, though. It’s how I deal with fear. I’m a master deflector.”

  He leaned on the desk’s edge. “What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “Are we supposed to hunt him down or wait until we run into him? Details were kinda vague last night. And what do we do if we run into him?” She didn’t have to tell Aidan who “him” was. How to approach, or not, Renaud was foremost on his mind this morning.

  “I mean, I’ve got a gun and know how to use it, but there’s a boatload of people out there,” she carried on. “We can’t just...ka-pow.” She raised a hand, fingers mimicking a gun.

  “Easy, Scully,” Aidan said.

  “If only I had red hair. Then maybe I’d get laid more.”

  Humor was right, and no filter, which she realized a second later, lips clamping shut. Aidan laughed as he circled around to his chair. “I’ve made a couple quiet inquiries this morning. Wald’s office isn’t on this floor, and he’s not in regularly. Security will call me if he shows.”

  “I can also tap into their feed.”

  “Do it.”

  She reached for her computer, furiously typing again.

  “If we do see him,” Aidan continued, “he’ll be in disguise as Wald, likely observing us. We can’t let on that we know who he really is. We have to act normal.”

  “Because that’s gonna be easy.”

  “Easy isn’t part of this job.” He leaned back in his chair. “One, you’re right. We can’t put other lives here at risk. Two, we’re in recon mode. Who’s the target and when’s it going down?”

  “But if we grab him, why won’t that stop it?”

  “Because it’s never only Renaud,” he explained. “He has contingencies, henchmen, back-ups that will carry out his plan. He’s likely already set it in motion. We have a better chance of stopping him if we intercept his process versus his person.”

  “You speak from experience?”

  “Too much,” he said, remembering all the pawns the terrorist had played during their last game of chess. And even before that, with SFPD detectives, his former partner, his late husband. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

  “Fun times.” She blew at her bangs. “I’ll see what else I can get here.”

  Aidan reached for his desk phone, intending to call down to security for an update, but then his cell rattled on the desktop, displaying an incoming call from Jamie. He fished his tablet out of his briefcase instead and swiped to answer. “Hey, I’ve got Lauren here with me. Switch to FaceTime?”

  “Yep,” Jamie said, and a moment later, his handsome face filled the screen. “There we go. Sit me somewhere I can see you both.” Aidan placed the tablet on the end of the desk, and he and Lauren both leaned into view.

  “Long time no see,” Lauren said.

  “Hello again, Mini-me,” he replied, before his gaze shifted to Aidan. “You get any sleep?”

  “A little.” Aidan didn’t bother asking Jamie if he’d gotten any. He’d showered, judging by the wrinkle-free clothes and damp curls Aidan was too far away to run his fingers through, but Jamie’s rapid-fire speech, his toothpick-wide eyes, and the number of peach pits, candy wrappers and coffee cups in view, indicated his partner was still on a hacker high.

  “Okay, first things first,” Jamie said. “Lauren, connect your personal laptop to the Pearl one and open up the monitoring software I loaded this morning. I need to get eyes on Aurora.”

  “Two minutes.” She plugged in cords, connected the two computers, and tapped away at both keyboards.

  “Irish, while she’s doing that, I need to tell you something.”

  Aidan’s stomach sank, fearing the worst from the tone of Jamie’s voice. “Is it about Kevin?”

  “No, I haven’t heard back from him. I’ll send him another text when we hang up. It’s the flash drive.”

  “The one from last night?”

  Jamie nodded. “It finished decrypting. It was the AD’s confession.”

  “His confession?”

  “I don’t know more than that. I hit pause and waited for you. Go to the remote server. It’s in the Project Angel file, in the ADDW folder.”

  Aidan pulled the tablet close again and opened a browser window. He willed his hands not to shake as he typed in the server address, entered his password, and hit GO.

  What did the AD have to confess? Why he’d covered up Gabe’s and Tom’s murders? Renaud’s leverage over him? Whatever it was, Renaud killed Weiss for it. And once he and Jamie knew the truth, and Lauren now too, it’d paint even bigger targets on their backs than the ones already there.

  Worry mounting, Aidan reached for his anchor, shrinking the remote access window so he could see Jamie’s face again. Blue eyes locked with his, grounding him. Always there when Aidan needed him most. Their gazes held until the video loaded and Aidan’s attention strayed to the strung-out-looking AD. Aidan hadn’t seen Weiss in over a year, but the older man’s salt-and-pepper hair had thinned, he’d dropped at least twenty pounds, and his brown eyes were bloodshot and sunken in.

  And haunted.

  “Not how I remember him,” Jamie said.

  “Me neither.” Aidan stood the tablet back up and pressed play.

  Weiss appeared on screen, in his office, the recording made on a similar device propped on his desk. He pushed back his hair, then folded his hands in his lap. “My name is Assistant Director David Weiss of the FBI, formerly Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco field office. If this flash drive hasn’t found its way to Melissa Cruz, my successor as San Francisco SAC, please deliver it to her immediately. This is my confession.”

  Aidan tensed, glancing again at Jamie to steady himself. Keeping one eye on his partner, he listened as Weiss’s confession unfurled.

  The AD explained how Martin Westley had approached him with evidence of his gambling addiction, including numerous personal loans his wife knew nothing about. How the loans had been paid off, by one of the companies under KAG’s umbrella. How those loans, and their payoffs, had been used to leverage him into shutting down the investigation into Tom Crane’s and Gabriel Cruz’s deaths. How he’d launched his own investigation and delivered a separate flash drive to Melissa Cruz last year, upon her promotion, in the hope that she’d carry the investigation forward and find justice for her colleague and her brother.

  Shocked, Aidan shoved away from the desk. They’d operated on the assumption the flash drive was from Renaud or one of his henchmen, delivered to leverage Mel, when in fact it had been from Weiss. On his end, Jamie had his elbows on his desk and his face in his hands.

  “I had the occasion, once, to meet Mr. Westley’s boss, Pierre Renaud. He is a deeply troubled man who is determined to bring chaos to the very economy that made him millions. After what he tried to pull off in Galveston, on the venture capitalists aboard that cruise ship, I was going to come forward before he risked more lives. I didn’t because he promised to take me out. I couldn’t risk my family being caught in the crossfire. If you are seeing this, he has killed me anyway.

  “I am sorry for my cowardice and for the lives lost because of it, least of all my own. I deserved this. Others do not. Please, Melissa, if I taught you anything, connect the dots and stop this man before he accomplishes his mission. And please tell my family I love them and I am sorry, more than they will ever know.”

  The video went dark, and Aidan struggled to force out words past his rioting emotions. Shock. Anger. And most of all, frustration. “He didn’t tell us anything?”

  “Yes, he did,” Jamie said. “He backed up our financial chaos theory and gave us a potential target.”

  Lauren maximized FaceTime again.

  “The VCs?” Aidan said. “You know as well as I do how many fucking VCs are in the Bay Area.”

  “W
anna bet the VCs of Pearl and/or those funding Aurora were on one of those two cruise ships? How did Renaud make his millions? Which VC firm is he connected to? We have to follow the money.”

  Jamie was right. They’d been looking for the source of Renaud’s funds for months. Now they had a lead, and perhaps Renaud’s next target, besides them. “Okay, you chase down which VCs were on those ships. When you find them, see if anyone connected knows Renaud or Wald. We’ll follow the money up the ladder here. Let’s see where they cross paths.”

  “And continue to monitor Aurora and trade activity,” Jamie reminded.

  “Monitoring program is up and running,” Lauren said. “We’ll keep an eye out for more bad handshakes, obviously. I’m also watching for Wald’s log-ins. Anything else?”

  “Other irregularities in the protocol and any off-market trades or messages. Aidan, that one’s going to be more on you. You’ll know if something is irregular, financial-wise.”

  “If I can review the past week’s messages,” Lauren said. “I can also analyze word choice, sentence structure, the like. If there’s a message that doesn’t belong to someone, syntax-wise, I might be able to spot it.”

  “Huh,” Jamie said, distracted by something off screen. “That’s interesting.” Brow furrowed, forehead creased, was not Jamie’s good kind of interested.

  “What is it?” Aidan asked.

  “You said everyone’s Aurora encryption was reset last week?”

  “That was my understanding from IT.”

  “Well, that’s lie one.”

  Lauren’s computer dinged a moment later and she flipped it around so Aidan could see the monitoring window with a handful of entries highlighted.

  “Only the highlighted ones were changed.” Jamie said.

  “IT being lazy?” Lauren said.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time with Nate,” Aidan chimed in.

  “Or it could be something else,” Jamie said ominously.

  Before Aidan could ask what, a commotion erupted in the hallway. Lauren rose and crossed the room, fingers wrapping around the metal door handle. Aidan lifted his chin and she cracked it open, like she was about to step out, so they could hear.