Nick laughed and scratched at his chin. “Find the treasure.”
“Right?” JD asked eagerly. “We find the treasure, we find them, and I don’t have to duck in alleyways anymore.”
“I get you, I do,” Nick offered. “But I’m a cop, man, not a treasure hunter. I told you I’d keep you safe, that I’d find out who you are, and that’s what I intend to do.”
JD sat back in his plastic chair, nodding dejectedly. A few moments later the sketch artist arrived, and she took JD into one of the interrogation pods where they could work.
Kelly slid into the chair, his knee knocking against Nick’s thigh as he slouched. “Why did you play dumb with him?”
Kelly asked quietly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Battle of Bunker Hill. Lexington and Concord.
Missing treasure right here under your nose in Boston. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t know anything about any of that, you goddamn history nerd.”
Nick’s lips twitched, and he sighed heavily. “I knew I’d regret f**king someone who’s known me for over a decade.”
Kelly snickered quietly, waiting for an answer.
“I wanted him to give us the information,” Nick explained.
“I wanted to see if he’d be right, for one, if he’d omit anything important. Or lie.”
Kelly remained silent, watching him. Nick slid his hand over Kelly’s knee. “You’re dying to go digging into that treasure story, aren’t you?”
Nick nodded fervently, not even trying to deny it.
Kelly laughed, throwing his head back. He slumped further in the chair, and his knee slid along Nick’s thigh. Nick cleared his throat and glanced around the room, shifting uncomfortably.
“So what’s our real next move?”
“Julian Cross.” Nick leaned forward, his hand squeezing Kelly’s knee. “He’s out there for a reason, showing himself; we just need to bring him in. How do you feel about a little bait and switch?”
Kelly licked his lips, then grinned slowly. “Sounds about as fun as you bending me over one of those interrogation desks.”
Nick groaned and pushed his chair back so they were no longer in contact. “Don’t f**king tempt me, okay? Those rooms have video feeds.”
“Really? Do they record?”
Nick had to get up and walk away as Kelly laughed merrily at his desk. “You’re killing me, Kels,” he called over his shoulder. “Killing me!”
Kelly left before Hagan came back, and before JD was done with the sketch artist. He headed out of the front of the building, taking his time as he strolled toward the parking lot where Nick’s Range Rover was parked. He removed his black leather jacket and tossed it into the car, then rummaged in the backseat for Nick’s green canvas jacket instead. It was too big at the chest, but it didn’t envelop him. He gave his shoulders a shake and pulled the coat tighter around him as he meandered out of the parking lot. He wandered along the quaint little side streets of Boston, enjoying the architecture, window-shopping until he was near the station again. He leaned against the side of a building, standing near a pillar and watching.
They had put JD in Nick’s suit coat again, covering his shaggy blond hair with the pilfered Red Sox hat and walking him down the back alley behind the police station toward Nick’s Range Rover.
Nick walked alongside him, his hand loose on JD’s elbow.
Kelly knew himself well enough to know he was a little jealous of the chemistry Nick and JD seemed to have. But he also knew Nick well enough to know he didn’t need to be worried.
He reminded himself what he was supposed to be doing, and he glanced around the area, watching the shadows, watching the narrows. Nick was supposed to lead JD into a bottleneck, where a fence jutted out near a big blue dumpster and would force them to veer toward the entrance to a side alley, and that was where Kelly headed.
He was almost too late. As soon as Nick and JD neared the alley, Nick shoved JD to the side and pulled his gun, obviously seeing something coming out of the corner of his eye.
Kelly moved with lightning speed, hitting the big man from the side and wrapping him up as they fell. He rolled with him, then let him loose, sending him into an uncontrolled tumble as Kelly hopped to his feet. Before Julian Cross could right himself, Kelly was on him again. He kicked at his chest, and Julian blocked the blow, but he wasn’t fast enough to block the next one when Kelly came up with a roundhouse kick that caught him in the side of the head and sent him sprawling.
Julian was on his hands and knees, pushing himself to his feet, and Kelly went at him again. Julian was at least four inches taller than he was, but Kelly didn’t care. Size had never fazed him before. He aimed high this time, landing a few blows around the ribs and kidneys, missing a few as Julian blocked them. Then Kelly went in for the kill, leaping at Julian with a kick to the chest that should’ve leveled him. Julian brought up both hands, though, catching Kelly’s foot. Kelly went with the momentum, kicking off the ground and using Julian’s hold on him for leverage. He caught Julian under the chin as he flipped himself backward, and he landed in a crouch several feet from his opponent.
He was breathing hard, body tense in expectation of Julian getting up again. He heard Nick’s footsteps behind him and he stood slowly. Nick patted him on the shoulder as they both stood over Julian, who was holding his face and lying on his back, cursing in an Irish accent.
“That’s a lot more fun to watch when it’s not me you’re doing it to,” Nick told Kelly, his voice warm with pride and possibly a little lust.
Kelly smirked at him.
Nick grabbed Julian by his elbow and hefted him off the ground, then jerked his arms behind him and shoved him against the wall of the nearest building. He patted him down from head to toe, taking special care around his wrists.
Kelly wound up holding an armful of weaponry and other . . .
implements. Then Nick slapped a pair of handcuffs on Julian and hissed in his ear. “Welcome to Boston.”
Chapter 5
elly sat in the backseat with Julian, watching him Klike a hawk. Nick could see them in his rearview mirror as he guided the car toward the marina. Any other col ar, and he’d have taken him right back inside to the precinct, but Nick had dealt with Julian Cross before. He wasn’t the type you paraded into a police department without expecting trouble—and probably the CIA—to follow close behind.
“I thought you were some sort of camp counselor,” Julian finally said to Kelly. “Work with troubled kids and all that.”