Kelly pursed his lips. “Yeah. It’s called Camp Asskicker.
I’ll give you a ‘you tried’ badge next time I see you.”
Julian snorted and actually smiled before meeting Nick’s eyes in the mirror. “The handcuffs aren’t really necessary, Detective.”
“Humor me,” Nick said. “You’re lucky you’re not in a cell.
Why are you in Boston? Who’s your mark?”
“I don’t have a mark. I’m retired, didn’t Grady tell you?”
“Seeing is believing, babe. And I’ve seen you at not one but two crime scenes in the past two days. So I’ll ask you again, why are you in Boston?”
Julian sighed, and his eyes darted to JD. “I’d rather speak in private, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Fine,” Nick growled.
They pulled into the marina parking lot and Nick swiped his security card to open the gates. He could feel the tension pouring off everyone in the car, including himself. It was days like this he sort of wished he’d pulled anchor on his yacht and just sailed into the Atlantic when he’d gotten home.
They got several double takes and glares from Nick’s neighbors as he led Julian, still handcuffed, toward his boat slip. The Fiddler’s Green was the largest vessel in the marina, and it sat on the very end of the very last dock. They had to walk past basically every other boat in the marina. Nick didn’t care, though. Whenever any of these f**kers had a problem, they came to Detective O’Flaherty to fix it. They could deal with dangerous international criminals being led by in handcuffs every couple of years.
They boarded the yacht, and Nick shoved Julian toward one of the sofas in the salon. “You here to talk?”
Julian nodded. “I still owe you for your previous assistance, Detective. I intend to keep this civil.”
“Attacking them in an alleyway, that’s civil?” Kelly asked.
“I believe I was the one who was attacked,” Julian corrected. “You’ll notice I didn’t take a single swing at you. I was waiting until the detective was away from his partner to approach him.”
Nick stared at him for several more seconds, then handed Kelly the keys to the handcuffs. “Let him loose. I’ll be right back.”
Kelly nodded silently, and Julian stood up to give him access to the handcuffs. Nick gestured for JD to follow him toward the lower deck. They both had to duck going down the steps. It was second nature for Nick, but JD bumped his head and cursed quietly, rubbing the spot as he followed Nick to the VIP cabin.
Nick gestured toward the bed and the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, okay? But stay here until one of us comes to get you.”
“Right,” JD said with a nervous nod. “Is he the one trying to kill me? Are you sure it’s okay to let him go?”
“No,” Nick answered. “And no. But we’ll trust him until he proves me wrong.”
JD met his eyes, and it was obvious from the look on his face that he caught Nick’s meaning. “Just like you’re trusting me. Right?”
“Exactly,” Nick said. “Stay here.”
He left JD, closing the door behind him, and headed back up to join Julian and Kelly in the salon. They were sitting opposite each other, both of them unblinking, both of them smirking slightly.
Nick put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath to get control of his temper. “Okay,” he said finally. “Julian Cross, this is Kelly Abbott. He kicked your ass once and he’ll do it again.”
“Again. I wasn’t fighting back,” Julian reminded. He looked Kelly up and down. “Although he does seem quite formidable for his stature.”
“Whatever,” Nick said, knowing that nothing Julian could say would ruffle Kelly’s feathers. He sat in the chair beside Kelly and leaned both elbows on his knees, waiting for Julian to begin talking.
“Do you know who you have in that cabin downstairs?”
Julian finally asked.
“No. Do you?”
“No, unfortunately.”
Disappointment spiked hard before Nick could get control of it. He had been resting a lot of hope on Julian being able to shed some light on this. “Okay,” he said through gritted teeth. “So what do you know?”
Julian clucked his tongue. “I know what they’re after.”
Nick and Kelly waited, staring at Julian as he grinned at them.
“Well, what are you waiting for here, dude, dramatic music?” Kelly finally blurted. “What the hell are they after?”
Julian looked a little annoyed that they hadn’t enjoyed the theatrics. He sat back and pulled his coat away, showing the inside to Nick before he reached in and extracted a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it carefully, then turned it so they could see the photocopied object. “The crown jewels of Ireland.”
“Crown jewels of Ireland?” Kelly said. “Is that real? That doesn’t sound real.”
Nick lowered his head, rubbing his face with both hands.
“The crown jewels of Ireland disappeared in the early 1900s.
Why are they stealing documents from the Revolutionary War if that’s what they’re after?”
“Wait, is this real?” Kelly asked again.
Nick nodded. “They were pieces made for the Order of St. Patrick in seventeen . . . something. I don’t remember.
They disappeared in 1908. After they were stolen, the papers started cal ing them the Irish Crown Jewels.”
“Jesus.” Kelly gaped at Nick. “Is there any obscure piece of history that you don’t know off the top of your head? Seriously!”
“Actually, it was 1907,” Julian said. “But I had to look up the information, so I’m impressed with your knowledge, Detective.”
Nick rolled his fingers through the air. “Get to the important part.”
“The order was created in 1783. You’ll notice the proximity to the end of your country’s Revolution.”
Nick closed his eyes and nodded impatiently. He was still waiting for any of this to connect to anything they’d found.
“The jewels, however, were not made until 1831 to replace the original rather plain ones worn by the Order.”
“How about you skip to the end, huh?” Nick demanded.
Julian glared for a moment, then he shook himself and nodded. “Fine. There is a theory that the payroll supposedly stolen from the Continentals at the beginning of the American Revolution was actually not a payroll at al , but rather a small trove of Masonic belongings, including one golden cross.”