[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
commercial airline pilots except for Jace Garcia. The guy was a hothead, known for charging into
situations like a bull, earning him the nickname Toro. He was smart, capable, and a bit crazy. Come
to think of it, he d probably fit in well with Gabe s team. There s only one guy I can think of right
now. Last I talked to him, he was flying corporate big wigs around Texas and hating every minute of
it. I ll give him a call, gauge his interest. Is there a way he can get in touch with you?
Gabe produced a business card and handed it over, then after a round of goodbyes, the SEALs left.
Vaughn waited all of a half second before nailing Cam with a look that said, all right, spill it, and
his hackles rose.
What?
Where were you all night?
Cam s jaw locked. You know damn well, he said through his teeth.
Yeah, that s what I thought. That was a huge mistake, bro.
I kinda figured that out when I woke up and found her gone.
Vaughn shook his head and picked up his coffee. Now what are you gonna do?
Can t do anything till we get home.
And then? Vaughn prompted.
He shrugged, pretending all kinds of nonchalance that he didn t feel. Then& I don t know.
Chapter Seven
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Cam turned up his collar against the icy November wind chasing dead leaves across the pavement
and fought down a surge of envy as he waited for his informant to show. Jude and Libby had stayed in
Key West for their honeymoon and were probably sitting together on the beach right this very minute,
being all lovey-dovey with each other as they soaked in the beautiful weather.
Three days home, and Cam would give anything to see the sun again. Winter had arrived early and
brutally, pounding the east coast with ice and snow storms and shutting down several major cities in
the process. Luckily, D.C. had avoided the worst of it, but the weather forecasters were not optimistic
about that trend continuing and gleefully spoke of an impending Snow-pocalypse.
He just hoped to be cozy at home before that happened.
Cam glanced up and down the quiet street dotted with abandoned warehouses and boarded up
buildings. This part of the city was dying, struggling for every breath, but cities needed places like
this. In a few years, some politician would probably see the potential charm and get it in mind to
clean up these streets and revamp the warehouses into condos for yuppies, leaving the homeless
squatters like his informant, Soup, without a roof over their heads once again.
Man, he wished he could get Soup some help, but if there was one thing he learned in his nine years
on the force, you can t help those that don t want it. Soup was perfectly happy with his lot in life.
Then again, Soup had all but pickled his brain and ruined a good career in banking with drugs and
alcohol, so maybe he wasn t the best judge of what was good for him.
Happiness was relative anyway.
Look at him, for example. He had a roof over his head, clothes on his back, food to eat, and a
decent job that made him a comfortable living, and he was wallowing in misery.
Three days home, and not a word from Eva. After several texts and the once-a-day messages he d
left on her voice mail had gone unanswered, he was starting to wonder if he d ever hear from her
again. Maybe he could drive by her place again when he left here
No, that was a little too stalker-ish for comfort. He d already spent way more time thinking about
her than was probably healthy. Which, really, was par for the course. Sometime early in their
partnership, his affection for Eva had blossomed into something much more dangerous, something he
absolutely shouldn t have felt.
Love. He was completely, head-over-ass in love with her.
He couldn t pinpoint the exact moment it happened. It was more like a bunch of little moments that
added up over the years, like that time she got so excited at a Redskins game she accidentally dumped
her beer over his head. Or the first time she kicked his ass in a sparring match, then spent the rest of
the day gloating about it. Her watery smile after that asshole Preston stood her up when she had
tickets to a Blake Shelton concert, and Cam had arrived decked out in a cowboy hat and boots to take
her, even though he hated country music. Or all the late nights at work, when they were so exhausted
they were running on caffeine and fumes, and they d burst into hysterical laughter over something as
juvenile as the squeak of a chair sounding like a fart. Each of those moments had chipped away at his
heart, bit by tiny bit, until she held the whole damn thing in her hands.
He d spent the past five years being so careful not to jeopardize their relationship, but now he d
gone and fucked everything up for one drunken night of sex. He d be lucky if she ever talked to him
again.
Cursing under his breath, Cam studied the street again, desperate for a distraction from his current
train of thought. Still empty. Where was Soup? After all the panicked messages the guy had left him
while he was gone, you d think he d be on time.
Five more minutes, Cam decided, then he was out. He had better things to do than stand here,
stiffening up in the wind.
The five minutes came and went.
And that s a wrap. He turned to trudge back to his 4Runner and that s when he finally spotted
Soup peeking around the corner of the nearest building.
About fucking time, Cam said.
Bad, bad news, Soup replied. He had a persistent twitch, a simultaneous jerk of his oily head and
fast blink, and it got worse when he was upset or in withdrawal. Since he had a very fresh set of
tracks up both of his bare arms, Cam assumed the twitch was from nerves.
What bad news?
S-S-Someone& Teeth chattering, he wrapped his arms around himself, which was going to do a
whole helluva lot of nothing to fend off the chill since he wore only a ratty T-shirt.
Cam sighed, slipped off his coat, and draped it over his informant s shoulders. Take this.
Soup huddled into it gratefully. I-I-I always like you, Detective. G-g-good man. Good friend.
There was that friend word again. Yeah, so I ve been told. He straightened the collar, then
zipped it up around the guy s skinny frame. Keep this one this time, okay? No trading it for dope. I m
running out of jackets.
Soup nodded, twitched, and snuggled deeper into the flannel lining. After a moment, his shivers
subsided.
All right, Cam said, ignoring the wind that had gone from brutal to flaying without the protection
of his coat. Give me the bad news.
Someone s asking around about you, man.
Who?
Soup lifted his shoulders in shrug. Some white dude. Mean. Nice clothes.
Okay, then. That narrowed it down. He tried a new tactic. What s the guy asking?
He asked me to kill ya for money.
Cam backed up a step, unsnapped the strap holding his gun in his shoulder holster, and drew the
weapon in a smooth, practiced move. Back the fuck up. Now.
Outrage rippled over Soup s weathered face, but he held up his hands and backed up until he stood
against the brick wall of a warehouse. You think I d do you like that, man?
I think you ll do just about anything for your next hit.
Not that. Genuine hurt flickered through his glazed eyes. I ain t no killer, man. You re my friend.
That s why I tell you.
All right, Cam said, but wasn t ready to lower his weapon just yet. If you re a friend, you ll get
me more info if he shows again, right? A name would be useful. A description of what he looks like
and what he drives. How much he s asking.
I can answer that! Soup said and twitched in excitement. A thousand big ones.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]