Before Rafe could turn back, the lights came on. There was an almost relieved sigh that swept through the room. The picture on screen seemed to recede a little, no longer the main focus of the world.
“Cameron Briggs, you son of a bitch!” Cam turned and couldn’t help a little smile. Joseph Stone, his former Bureau chief, took the stairs two at a time, his familiar face lit with a smile. He’d aged very little since the last time Cam had seen him. Joseph was a big, athletic guy. As long as Cam had known him, he’d been bald, but even that made him seem a bit powerful. Joseph was the type of man other men followed.
“Special Agent Stone.” Cam took his hand and shook it. Joe had always been a good boss. He was Harvard educated and highly connected, but he’d always known how to make Cam feel welcome.
Joe pumped his hand twice and slapped Cam gently on the back.
“No need for formalities any more, Cam. Did Rafe call you? I have all the paperwork set up to bring you in as a contractor. We need everyone we can on this. It’s going to take everything we have to catch this one. I don’t have anyone on the team with your computer skills.”
Cam looked to his former partner who had his head down, one foot tapping against the floor. Guilty as sin.
“No, he didn’t call me.” Betrayal burned through Cam.
Apparently, despite their oaths to one another, his former partner didn’t think it was important enough to call and tell him that the man they had hunted for years had resurfaced. “I was here on another matter, but I can see plainly that Special Agent Kincaid is very, very busy. I won’t interrupt him. Call me sometime, Joe. We can have a beer.”
Joe’s brows came together in a V . “What are you saying? You do understand what we’re talking about here? This is the Marquis de Sade’s work. There’s no denying it.”
Oh, Cam understood. He understood perfectly fine. He also understood that he had played his part, and he was an idiot for thinking Rafe would play his. Rafe’s head came up, and those dark eyes of his narrowed for a moment. Ruthlessly intelligent, it wouldn’t take long for Rafael Kincaid to figure out why he was here interrupting this briefing. It wasn’t like Cam would come for lunch.
“I understand. De Sade is back.” It was time for Cam to make a strategic retreat. His fist closed around the paper in his hand. He was gentle with it. He didn’t want to crush it. It was the first glimpse he’d gotten of her in years. It was strangely precious to him. “Rafe’s your man. He and Special Agent Conrad can handle this. You don’t need me.”
Cam turned and walked out of the door. If Rafe wanted to renege on their deal, he sure as hell wasn’t about to give the man the keys to the kingdom. He would go after her himself.
Yes. It was better this way. Rafe could go after the killer and further his career. Cam could get what he wanted. He wanted Laura.
Without Rafe around, maybe she would fall for him again. Yeah. He had a better shot without pretty, rich, smooth-as-silk Rafe around. It had been a flat-out miracle Laura had even noticed him.
“I need you, Cam.” Laura had turned to him, her plump lips red and swollen from Rafe’s kisses. Cam had kissed her and tasted the Scotch on her lips. Rafe’s drink. He’d plunged his tongue inside, not giving a damn that Rafe was behind her, his hands playing with her breasts. Somehow, in that moment, it had felt right to be there with Rafe. It had been perfect.
“Cameron!”
Cam stopped, pulled roughly from his memory. His feet had known which way to go. He was standing in front of the doors that led to the lobby. Rafe put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around.
“I’ve been yelling like an idiot for two minutes. Why didn’t you stop?”
Cam shrugged, unwilling to betray his emotional state. He let his face go blank. He’d perfected it long ago so his father wouldn’t gain any satisfaction from knowing how deeply his insults cut. He just never really thought he would have to go there with Rafe. “I didn’t have anything to say.”
Rafe scrubbed a hand through his perfectly cut pitch-black hair.
“That’s bullshit, Cam. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have something to say.” He glanced down at his watch. “I know you’re pissed at me. I would be pissed at me, too, but I have my reasons.”
“Were you going to tell me?” Cam asked the question as if the answer didn’t have the ability to rip his insides out. He also asked it as though he would actually believe any answer that came out of Rafe’s mouth.
“No.”
Well, at least the asshole was honest. “Then we’re done here. I’ll see you in the next lifetime, my brother.”
“Stop. Come on, Cam. You know we need to talk. Just let me explain, and then if you don’t want to talk to me, we can be done. I just need five minutes, but I have to finish that briefing. I can meet you at McKay’s at four, okay?” Rafe was already backing up, his five hundred dollar shoes squeaking against the marbled floor.
McKay’s Pub. They had spent a lot of nights unwinding at McKay’s. For a while it had been their favorite hangout. Cam had spent every night there after work. They had joked that there was a booth with their names on it. He and Rafe had taken turns sitting beside Laura while they discussed the work day. “Sure. Four o’clock.”
Rafe smiled. “Four o’clock. I’ll be there.”
But Cam wouldn’t. He waved at Rafe and then walked out the door, hopped on his bike, and motored right past the bar where he was supposed to give his ex-partner five minutes of his time. He wouldn’t waste another second.
When he pulled into his rathole of an apartment complex, he carefully unfolded the newspaper clipping he’d printed from the Internet . Billionaire Artist’s Bride-to-Be . It was an article featuring someone named Jennifer Waters and her spectacular wedding plans.
The picture was of the bride-to-be and her bridesmaids. There were five other women in the picture, but Cam’s eyes focused on one. She stood toward the back as though she didn’t really want to be in the photo, but a smiling red-haired woman held her hand, dragging her in.
Her lips quirked up in a secretive smile. She looked so different with her hair down and very little makeup on her face. She looked vibrant and happy and so sweet he could eat her alive.
Laura Rosen.
The only woman he ever loved.
“I’m coming for you, baby.” He hopped off his bike and jogged to his apartment, eager to get the hell out of Dodge.
Rafael Kincaid pulled his Benz into the small parking lot of the Hampton Manor Homes and felt a bit of his rage morph into guilt.
He’d been furious when he realized Cam had stood him up. Rafe had rushed through the meeting, anxious to talk to Cam, to clear the air between them, and that asshole had just gone home. He’d gone home to a dilapidated fourplex that Rafe wouldn’t have let a dog live in.
Cam lived here?
Damn it, he should have known. Cam had sent him an e-mail with his new address, but Rafe had been far too busy to do what he should have done. He should have helped him move. He should have checked this place out. He slid out of his car, which might be worth more than the entire small building. There were four units, and at least three of them had to be housing meth labs. What the hell was Cam doing here?
Spending every dime he has looking for your woman.
It was obvious to Rafe that Cam had spent all of his money on the computer equipment he needed to perfect his facial recognition software. Cam had given up comfort and safety.
Rafe scrubbed a hand across his face and felt years older than thirty-four. He could swear he’d aged twenty years since the night Laura Rosen had been captured by the Marquis de Sade. The minute he’d realized she was gone, his soul had become something older, heavier, than it had been before. Guilt weighed on him. Now he felt its press as he walked up the steps that led to Cam’s “home.” Damn it. Why hadn’t Cam told him he needed money? Rafe would have happily written him a check.