Greer nodded. “We’re all going to work on it.”
“No, don’t.” Sighing, he propped himself against the edge of his desk and rubbed his hands over his face. “C’mon, you know how many people I’ve had threaten me over the years? How many murderers I’ve put away that vow to take their revenge? This is probably nothing. I mean, who goes shopping for a hired killer among burnt out drug addicts?”
“He’s got a point,” Vaughn said.
“See? You guys have enough on your plates—Vaughn with his new case, and you two, keeping us flush with clients so we can pay our bills. And, Reece, don’t you have another home security gig coming up? You don’t have to drop everything. I’ll handle this.”
Greer punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “That’s not how this family works, Cam, and you sure as hell know it. Someone fucks with one of us, they fuck with us all. Understood?”
Although Cam had been out of the military for nearly ten years, he still felt an urge to salute whenever Greer used his Army Ranger tone like that.
Instead, he punched Greer’s shoulder back just as hard. “10-4, big bro. But at least give me time to verify the threat is valid, okay?”
His brothers looked at each other.
“And if it is real, you can throw me in a safe house somewhere.” Not that he’d actually go, but if the little white lie got his brothers off the subject, he was a-okay with it. “Then you can drop everything and call in the freakin’ National Guard to find the guy if you want.”
The tension in the room broke with Greer’s abrupt bark of laugher. “The National Guard couldn’t find their asses with a GPS and an arrow pointing the way. You call in the Rangers if you want someone found.”
“Excuse me?” Vaughn said, eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You meant the SEALs, right?”
“Nah. You call the SEALs when you want someone killed. You call the Rangers when you want them found.”
Vaughn clicked his tongue against his teeth. “We’re gonna have to agree to disagree there, bro.”
“What’s there to disagree about?” Reece asked. He’d gone the intelligence route rather than into the Rangers like Greer, but he was no less loyal to Mother Army for it. “It’s a straight-up fact.”
“Oh, so it’s two against one now? That’s how it’s gonna be?” Squaring off against the two of them, Vaughn crooked a finger. “Bring it, Army brats.”
Cam slipped past them and made it to the parking lot before he let his grin loose. Need to escape an uncomfortable conversation with Greer and Reece? Bring up the National Guard and wait. The age-old branch rivalry would do the rest, especially when Vaughn was around to egg it on.
Cam opened the door of his 4Runner, heard something crash in the office, and laughed. Yup. Worked like a charm every time.
Chapter Eight
“Yo, Wilde!”
Eva’s stomach hit the floor at Detective Miguel de la Rosa’s shout from across the office. Oh, Christ, no. Please don’t let it be Cam. It couldn’t be him. He wasn’t a morning person and had no reason to be at the police station this early. Maybe it was one of his brothers. Yes, that was possible. Reece and Greer both came by fairly regularly.
At the moment, she’d take any of the Wilde brothers but Cam. He’d called her several times in the four days since returning from Key West, and she’d agonized over her phone each time his name showed on the caller ID. She wanted to pick up and play it cool like their one night stand never happened, but whenever she worked up the nerve to answer, she’d remember his lips, hard on hers, kissing her senseless. His hands, pinning hers to the mattress. His voice, demanding that she say his name as she climaxed hard enough to see stars.
Dammit. His voice.
That was his voice answering Miguel with a, “Hey, long time.”
She heard a clap of palms and looked up from her computer screen in time to see her old partner and her new partner pull each other in for one of those manly, backslapping hugs.
“You tired of playing Dick Tracey yet?” Miguel asked. “Ready to come back and do some real police work?”
“Nah, man. I kinda like the P.I. lifestyle. The work’s mostly interesting. Plus, no mandatory overtime or holiday hours.”
“Aw, fuck me,” Miguel said.
“You’re not really my type.”
Yeah, because she was his type. Eva wanted to melt from embarrassment and sank down in her chair. She sensed his gaze traveling over her head.
“Eva still here?”
“She was… Oh. Huh,” Miguel said. “I don’t see her anymore. Probably went home. We worked the night shift.”
Yes, she’d gone home. No Eva here. Now if only Cam would turn around and leave because she really couldn’t face him. Not at work in front of everyone. Her reputation would never recover—and goddamn him, he knew that. He knew how hard she worked to be seen as another one of the guys.
How dare he put her in this position?