Slow Summer Burn: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance (22 page)

“I am.” Cici nodded, pulling back from Cameron and wiping her tears away. “And I know enough never to do anything that stupid again. That’s part of the reason I’ve stayed at Mom and Dad’s so long. For the longest time, I honestly didn’t trust myself. I’m feeling more normal now, but it’s taken a while.”

“It wasn’t the smartest thing to get that drunk your first night out, but the mistake wasn’t yours, Cici. Brett and Junior are the ones who should be publicly shamed, not you.”

Cici nodded. “That’s what I keep telling myself. And what Jace keeps telling me.”

She liked this Jace, whoever he was. “Good.” Cameron smiled and tried to collect herself. “We need to find someplace fun to have dinner tonight. Get out of this rut we’re in.”

“You could serve me anything and I wouldn’t care. All I’ve been subsisting on for the past year and a half is chef’s bland soup and boiled chicken.”

That
made her laugh. “The food
is
really awful, but Mom and Dad are so set in their ways.”

Cici just raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Sounds remarkably like someone else I know.”

Chapter 22

Friday morning at Val’s office, Thalia greeted him by slapping Kirkland’s thick file in his hand. “Morning,” she said. “Dug up some more dirt on the congressman. We were able to pull the records from his private plane and found that six months ago, he traveled to Canada. Twice. And this isn’t the first time he’s been there. He also went three years ago.”

Val opened the folder and examined the flight records. “Where?”

“Perth. Right near Ottawa.”

“Could’ve been for pleasure,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. He never relished the position of playing devil’s advocate, but it was his job.

Thalia frowned. “Perth doesn’t have much going for it other than the fact that it’s right near the St. Lawrence River.”

Ellen came over to join them. “Val, you know as well as we do that the St. Lawrence is one of the primary ways designer drugs get smuggled out of the U.S. in the east. They take I-90 from Boston, pop onto I-81, the shipments go right over the river, and bam! They’re over the border.”

“Or they just fly right across,” Thalia intoned.

“Where does he keep his aircraft housed?” Val asked.

“It varies,” Ellen said. “But he has a permanent place at Hanscom Field, just north of Lexington, where he has a house. We’ve pulled the pilot’s logs and found that his trips all seem to be normal. Except for those two trips to Canada, he’s mostly going back and forth between Lexington and Washington, DC. And he flew it to airfields near various ski resorts last winter. Again, normal.”

“Maybe he has another plane,” Val suggested.

Ellen shook her head. “Not one he has registered.”

“And where could he keep it, anyway?” Thalia asked. “All of this is public record, and on record, there’s no other craft.”

“I don’t know, but if he’s really involved, he has to be getting to the St. Lawrence River area somehow, and I’ll bet you anything it isn’t by car. The congressman prides himself on his
pilot’s license. He’s using it. We need to find out how and where.”

“Okay,” Ellen said, making a note. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about looking at the properties he owns. Maybe one of them is big enough to house a plane.”

“And an airfield, too?” Thalia asked.

“Why not? The field would only have to be, what, a couple of thousand feet long to be able to launch and land one of those little single-pilot planes? Ottawa would be in range from Boston, even for a plane that small, especially one of the high-end ones.”

“We’ll check it out,” Ellen said, “and let you know what we find.”

“Any update on his financials?”

“No,” said Thalia. “I’ve been working with the FBI on this, and the man is squeaky clean.”

“Still,” Val said, “none of the other suspects have panned out. Kirkland is our man. We just have to connect him to the operation somehow.”

“So what do we do?” Thalia asked.

“What we’ve been doing. Monitor Kirkland with heightened scrutiny, follow up on any open leads for our other suspects, just in case we’re wrong, and move forward.”

Three hours later, Ellen and Thalia came into his office. “Get this,” Ellen said, handing him a file. “The congressman’s Lexington estate has a building large enough to house an aircraft. And his front lawn stretches out into a meadow that’s close to two thousand feet long.”

“Nice work, Ellen,” Val said. The woman beamed.

“I found out Kirkland’s throwing a huge party at his estate in a few weeks. It would be the perfect opportunity to do some reconnaissance work, if we could get access to the house and grounds.”

“Maybe your cousin could bartend,” he told Thalia, only half-jokingly.

“I wish, but not for this crowd. Everyone’s personally vetted by Kirkland and his permanent staff.”

“I guess it’s too much to ask that we could get onto the guest list somehow,” Thalia said.

“Didn’t your brother get one of the Kirkland Awards?” Ellen asked. “Maybe he’ll be invited.”

Val shook his head. “I doubt it. Theo’s crowd is more literary and less social.” But he
knew someone who was bound to be invited: Cameron.

“You should call her,” Thalia suggested softly.

No way
. “I can’t use her like that,” he said, cursing himself for letting his colleagues know whom he’d been seeing. Until Cameron had told him to bug off a week ago, he’d been in heaven. Even Thalia had remarked on how happy he’d seemed. This week without her had been awful. He’d put his emotions on hold and focused on work, hiding the fact that he was miserable from everyone. Thank God he had a great poker face.

“Maybe if she understood what we’re up against, she’d agree,” Ellen said. “She’s perfectly positioned, knows all the right people. And she could get in places we can’t, do things we can’t because she’s not government. Why not—”

“I said no,” he barked.

“What’s going on with you?” Thalia demanded. “You’ve never had issues with using civilians as confidential informants before.”

He turned away from her accusing stare and flipped through the file. “I can’t put her in danger. And we all know that heading into the congressman’s house with no training, no backup, and no clue as to what she’s doing would be a recipe for disaster.”

“You could go with her as her date,” Ellen suggested. “And do the operation yourself.”

Val shook his head. “Congressman Kirkland’s a smart man. I can guarantee you that he knows exactly who I am. If I’m on that guest list, everything will be in lockdown. It might be, anyway. We don’t know what precautions he’s taken.”

“Talk to her,” Thalia pressed. “See what she says.”

Val just grunted. The last thing he wanted to do was tell his colleagues that he and Cameron weren’t speaking at the moment.

“Oh, no,” Thalia said. “Did you do the whole strong-and-silent thing again?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Thalia and Ellen just looked at each other.

“Don’t you two start with me,” he warned. “Isn’t there some rule that says we have to separate our personal lives from work?”

“The employee manual makes it clear that CIs are not allowed to enter into relationships with agents,” Thalia said, “but I would think that in
this
situation, especially if it’s been disclosed in advance, they would make an exception.”
The situation where a lead agent in a case against a prominent politician was dating the perfect woman to act as a CI?

“The manual makes excellent kindling,” Ellen said cheerfully. “Or a good doorstop.”

“Focus!” he said, slamming his hand down on the file. “We need to get this information a different way. One that doesn’t involve Cameron Stahl. Am I clear?”

“Yeah, Val,” Thalia said, glancing at Ellen. “Crystal.”

As soon as work was over, Val hopped in his truck and tore out of town to the one place he knew would make him feel better: Star Harbor. He didn’t know what it was about the town, but he knew he needed to be there, on the water, on his boat, having a drink at the Nail with his brothers. Exactly what he was going to do tonight. He tried not to think about the fact that now, everything he loved about that little town was wrapped up in
her
.

He tried to push the thought of Cameron away, driving like a man possessed.

But her beautiful face followed him out of Boston, over the Bourne Bridge and down Route 28, all the way into town.

It wasn’t until much later, when he was seated at the Rusty Nail with his brothers, an ice-cold glass of beer in his hand, that he felt himself unwind. Despite the late hour, the Nail was pretty crowded. Val welcomed the noise and the chatter. He could get lost in it.

As usual, Cole was seated at the square table, his back to the wall. Theo sat opposite Cole, and he and Seb had taken the other spots.

“What’ve you been up to this week?” Cole threw the question out to everyone, but Theo jumped in first.

“It was the usual for me. A good week of writing. Got two chapters pounded out, and outlined a third. I really like the way the story is developing. Being in Star Harbor sure has been good for me.”

“It’s been good for other things, too,” Cole said, sounding smug. He was the one who’d suggested that Theo leave San Francisco, where he’d lived for the past decade, and spend some time in Star Harbor—and he congratulated himself at every opportunity for getting Theo back to town. Val didn’t mind Cole’s attitude. He was glad to have Theo back just as much as his other brothers.

Theo just smiled. “What have you been doing?”

Cole glanced at Val. “Nothing new on the drug case, though I did make a few other
arrests for possession of bath salts.” He shook his head. “We’re doing all we can on the ground, but we don’t seem to be making any headway here. I hope you and your team have something up your sleeve, Val.” Val just set his jaw. “On an unrelated note, I pulled Melinda Cook’s grandmother over for driving without a license.”

“Melinda Cook’s
grandmother
? She must be pushing a hundred,” Seb said.

“Turned ninety-three yesterday. Seems like she went on a little birthday joyride. Lucky I caught her before she drove Melinda’s station wagon into Harper’s Pond.”

Theo snorted. “You can’t make this stuff up. Like they say, truth is always stranger than fiction.” He took a drink. “Seb, how was your week?”

Seb swallowed before speaking. “We had a good first couple of weekends. The Schoolhouse is doing well. Really well. Lexie’s after me to make it a permanent place, but I kind of like the idea of it being someplace that’s only open during the summer.”

“Avery told me it seems more special that the restaurant will close at the end of August,” Theo said. “That she wants to savor it while it lasts.” He chuckled. “I kind of agree with her. Anyway, I’m sure one of the main reasons Lexie wants you to keep it open is that she wants you around more.”

“Can’t deny that,” Seb said, taking a sip of his beer. “I’ll be around more, anyway this fall, for sure. My sous-chef, Jorge, has been itching for more responsibility, so I told him I’d let him take the reins at Helena some of the weekdays when we’re open. And since both the LMK and Helena are closed on Mondays, I figure I can cut out on Sunday night after dinner service and spend at least part of the week in Star Harbor. At least until filming for the next season of my show starts.”

Cole nodded approvingly. “I knew the Cooking Channel would pick it up for another season.”

“Found out this week, actually.”

“Congrats, man,” Theo said.

Val smiled and nodded.

Cole trained his sharp gaze on him. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”

“I’m always quiet,” Val said. “Or so they’d have you believe.”

“Not with us,” Seb said. “So what’s up?”

“
Nada
.”

“Uh-huh.” Cole’s tone was one of disbelief. “What’s really up? You have more intel in the drug case you can’t share?”

Val grunted and took a sip of beer to prevent himself from saying something he really shouldn’t. Like the fact that they were trying but failing to close in on Congressman Kirkland, and his team, not to mention his boss was all over him to use Cameron as a CI. Oh, yeah, and that he’d completely blown it with her.

“Things with Cameron okay?” Theo asked.

Val gave his brother a short nod, and his brothers took that as their signal to stop bugging him. So instead they went on with their own conversation—about the next morning’s fishing at Mutterman’s Pier, from what he could hear—and he went on thinking about the woman he just couldn’t forget.

He hadn’t reached out to her at all. Not even a text to see how she was doing. In his defense, she’d been the one to tell him she didn’t want to see him anymore. At least not until she was ready—her words.
But when have you let that stop you before?
He kept trying to tell himself that it was because if they were together, she’d start asking questions he couldn’t answer. He had to keep her safe at any cost.

Even if that cost was their relationship.

He shook his head. When she’d broken up with Junior Kirkland, he couldn’t understand why Junior had let her go. At the time, he’d chalked it up to the fact that Junior hadn’t really loved her. But here he was, in the same position as Junior had been, and he wasn’t doing a damn thing about it.

No, he wasn’t in the same position as Junior. Because
he
loved her.

God, he loved her! And he was an idiot for insulting her intelligence by not telling her the truth. She was a smart woman. He could have at least told her what was going on with the congressman so she could assess the risk for herself. Not that he was going to allow her to put herself in a situation where she could be harmed, but at least he could have given her the means to make that decision.

He shoved his chair back and stood. Seb, Theo, and Cole all looked up at him in surprise. His brothers. They meant the world to him. He’d gotten them through the good times and the bad. Together forever. Except his brothers had moved on.

“I gotta go,” he said.