Hagan jerked and snorted, shaking his head as he woke.
“I’m awake.”
Nick chuckled and nodded, stepping aside so Hagan could get back into the room. “I told him you’d call me if anything came up.”
“You got it, brother. You deal with this shit better than me,” Hagan said, and then stumbled toward his bed and flopped into it.
Kelly was still sitting with his back against the wal , blinking up blearily at Nick.
“You can fall asleep in under five minutes sitting in the hal way of a hotel, but you can’t sleep in my nice soft bed on my boat.”
Kelly licked his lips and reached up for Nick to help him to his feet. “Maybe we should sleep on the flybridge again,” he said as they headed for the elevators. “I slept like a baby up there on that pool float with Ty that one time.”
Nick snorted and jabbed at the elevator button. “We’re getting a hotel.”
“So, tell me about this case. The witness has amnesia?”
Kelly asked in the car on the way back to the Boston Harbor Marina. He’d tried as long as he could to keep out of it, but he was just too curious.
“Yeah, he took a bullet to the back of the head. Doctors said it’s either physical damage or shock of some kind.”
“Kind of like that time I got kicked in the head by that goat.”
Nick burst out laughing. “Yeah, kind of like that.”
Kelly glanced at him, admiring his profile. He still owed Nick for that. They’d been on a mission when they’d taken cover in a gully that just happened to be sheltering several goats, including one territorial billy goat who’d taken a shot at Kelly’s head. He’d woken up as they’d been carting him back to camp, and Nick had convinced him he was a Bible salesman from Oklahoma who’d gotten fresh with the livestock and paid for it with a hoof. Kelly’d believed it for two whole hours before his memory came back. He still had trouble looking at goats without flashes of completely unwarranted guilt.
“Asshole,” Kelly muttered.
Nick very nearly giggled before he got himself under control. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. We don’t know if he has any solid information or not, we don’t even know who he is.”
“Could he be one of the robbers? Got knocked out at the scene and just pulled something out of his ass when he woke up rather than going to jail?”
“It’s a real possibility, yeah. That’s the other reason we’ve got him under protection.”
“Oh. Smart.”
“Indeed,” Nick drawled, throwing Kelly a sly smirk before he turned his eyes back to the road.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in detective mode. It’s kind of . . . sexy.”
Nick merely smiled. Kelly watched him, pondering the silence that fell between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It never had been, not from the first moment they’d met. It could sometimes be heavy, though, especially during the months after Nick had returned from his POW experience in Afghanistan.
This silence was something different. It was easy and light, devoid of expectation. Kelly liked it. But he could sense that Nick had more on his mind than the next few weeks with him.
“Hey babe, do you want me to go back home until you get this case wrapped?” Kelly asked. “I don’t want to be in the way.”
Nick glanced at him, eyes widened in alarm. “No. No, you’re not in the way. I never said that.”
“I know you never said it, but I also know how your brain works. You’re not going to stop mul ing over the mystery, but whenever you do think about it and you think you should be spending time with me instead, you’re going to feel guilty for working.”
“Not true.”
“You are the shittiest liar in the history of lying liars.”
Nick laughed softly, reached over the console, and grasped Kelly’s hand. “Fine, you’re probably right. But I don’t want you to leave. Please?”
“Okay. So tell me more about the case. Can you?”
“Technically, no. But hell, I’ve told you national security shit you shouldn’t know either so what the hell.”
Kelly gestured to himself, tracing a circle in the air around his face. “It’s this beautiful mug right here. Like a puppy. Does this look like the face of a spy?”
Nick glanced sideways at him. “Yes.”
“Fair enough. But tell me anyway.”
“The robbery was in an antiquarian bookstore.”
“Antiquarian? That’s specialty stuff, not just used paperbacks, right?”
“Right. Rare books, expensive stuff.” Nick had to release Kelly’s hand to flip the turn signal on, which apparently pissed off the car behind them because it honked at them as it passed. Nick ignored it. “Shop was busted up like they were looking for something. Security system would have been easy to bypass even for a rudimentary cat burglar, but they took it out without leaving a trace.”
“So you think it was a professional team?”
“Probably.” There were more honks behind Nick and he peered into the rearview mirror. He muttered under his breath. “What are these f**kers doing?”
Kelly glanced behind them. “Isn’t that just how Massholes drive?”
Nick flicked on the police light on the dash. The honking stopped and the offending car slowed until more space was between them and Nick’s Range Rover.
Kelly turned back around in his seat. “I’m really enjoying the power trip that comes with f**king a cop.”
“That’s what they all say. Anyway. Pro crew hits rare bookstore. They take four books and two objects out of a display case, all possibly linked to the Revolutionary War.”
“What objects?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not psychic, dude.”
“What about the shop owner?” Kelly asked.
“Dead. Killed on the sidewalk in front of the store along with one of the robbers. Reports say there were shots fired, witnesses are saying anywhere from five to a dozen. We haven’t recovered all the bullets or casings yet, but there were at least four. One of which clipped JD.”
“God. Who would kill for a handful of old books?”
“No clue.” Nick rolled his window down and slid his security key into the marina’s gate controls.
“What’re your off-the-wall theories you’re afraid to tell your partner ’cause he laughs at you?”