“You know,” Hagan said. “If they’re following clues, or hunting for them like they were at the bookstore, they’d have left a trail.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked.
“If they’re looking for contemporaneous papers that tell where this treasure is, this isn’t their first robbery. You don’t get from Dublin Castle in Ireland to a bookstore in Boston without a little hint about where to go, know what I mean?”
“That’s where we’ll start tomorrow,” Nick declared, nodding at his partner.
“Start that search in Dublin,” Julian suggested.
“Oh, and I got the printout of the sketch from the artist JD talked to,” Hagan said, and he stood and patted his pockets down to extract a folded-up piece of paper. He handed it to Nick.
Nick unfolded it and smoothed it out. Kelly felt Nick’s body tense as soon as he saw the drawing.
“What?” Kelly whispered.
“This might complicate things a bit.” Nick turned to JD.
“You sure this man shot at you?”
“No, no. It’s just . . . I remembered him when the gunfire started. I have no idea who he is.”
Nick nodded, eyes on the drawing again. “I do.”
There was a general outburst of questions from the others, but Nick’s mouth was set in a grim line. He met Julian’s eyes as he turned the drawing around. “It’s Cam.”
Julian blanched and snatched the paper from Nick’s hand.
He stood, staring at it for several beats before turning to JD, his black eyes ablaze.
“Whoa, whoa!” Kelly shouted, and he and Nick both hopped up to intercept before a fight could break out.
Nick wrapped Julian up and dragged him toward the edge of the flybridge, his arms around Julian’s massive shoulders, his bare feet digging in to fight the weight of Julian’s struggles.
Julian might have been one of the few men Kelly’d seen who made Nick look smal . Kelly positioned himself in front of JD, who was watching with wide eyes, confusion written in every line of his face.
“He’s seen Cam!” Julian shouted as he struggled against Nick’s hold. “He’s been with him, he knows more than he’s saying!”
Nick finally got him turned around facing the sea, and he was speaking to Julian in a low, urgent voice. His arms went from restraining to comforting, and his voice got loud enough that they could make out his words. “I swear to God, Cross, we’ll find him. I’ll help you find him. But you got to stay calm for me, you got to keep your head.”
“I . . . I don’t understand. What did I do?” JD asked desperately.
“You described the face of his boyfriend,” Kelly explained.
“Who’s been kidnapped by the people who are looking for this treasure. Which means you . . . are involved a little more heavily than we were hoping.”
“Oh Jesus,” JD gasped. He put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder, trying to get past him to get closer to Julian and Nick. Kelly didn’t let him. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember. I’m truly sorry, but I don’t remember!”
Julian was hanging his head, his knuckles turning white as he grasped the railing. Nick was still murmuring to him, an arm draped over his shoulder.
Julian finally raised his head and took a deep breath. “Of course,” he managed. He turned around, and Nick carefully stepped away from him, giving him space. “I apologize for my outburst. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
“Cross,” Nick said before Julian could retreat down the stairwell. Julian stopped. “I’ll hunt them down like he was mine. I promise.”
Julian locked eyes with Nick, his expression unreadable.
He descended the steps without another word, leaving the rest of them in an awkward silence.
The sun had set on them, the flickering of several citronella lanterns and the soft glow of the quaint café bulbs Nick always strung along the flybridge in the summer the only remaining light.It was incredibly romantic, bobbing out in the harbor, the city of Boston twinkling in the distance. Kelly just wished they were alone instead of sharing the yacht with three other men and breaking up fights and hunting treasure and this was bullshit. Hell, they might as well have called Sidewinder in and slept in puppy piles on pool floats like they used to.
JD seemed to be trying to catch his breath as Julian disappeared down the steps and closed the hatch behind him.
“Oh God,” he whispered. “Is it possible I’m the one who . . .”
Nick trudged back over to his seat and flopped down. “It’s best not to linger on that just yet.”
JD had a hand over his mouth, and he looked positively ill. He finally cleared his throat and asked, “How do you not linger on that? How?”
“I have some Valium,” Nick offered.
Kelly winced. “Bad idea, very bad with the amnesia thing.
Nope.”
“I think I need to . . . try to sleep,” JD practically croaked.
“Good night.”
Kelly let him pass by as they all murmured good-nights to him. Then he joined Nick on the seat and leaned back into Nick’s arm, sighing heavily.
“What a f**king mess,” he said quietly. Nick nodded beside him.
They turned their attention to Hagan, who was stretched out on the chaise across from them, finishing his beer. He grinned mischievously. “Well aren’t we cozy,” he drawled.
Kelly snorted. Nick rubbed his fingers across his eyes.
“You two go on. I can’t take the sexual tension anymore,” Hagan teased. He tapped the cooler next to him. “I’ll keep first watch.”
Nick stood and pulled Kelly to his feet. “You asked for it,” Nick growled to Hagan.
“Be a good neighbor, O’Flaherty,” Hagan called as Kelly and Nick made their way down the steps. “Muffle the screams!”
Nick sat and stared at the file before him. He’d tried going to bed, but after only a few minutes Kelly had told him to get out because he kept tossing and turning. So he’d headed back up to the salon and gotten into his notes. He’d promised JD he would find out who he was, he’d promised Julian he would find Cameron, and both pledges haunted him. His fingers trembled as he leafed through his papers, and he gritted his teeth. He’d mostly gotten the hand tremor under control, but when it returned, it meant he was wearing himself too thin.
He’d been going over every little detail he’d managed to glean in the past two days, trying to piece them together, trying to make sense of them. It seemed like the more he tried to force his brain to work, the less he managed to come up with, and the more frustrated he got.