Cameron nodded.

“We haven’t asked you, not once, what you thought we should do,” Ty continued.

Julian tore his eyes away from the FBI agents and looked at his lover. Ty was right. They’d been pulling Cameron along without so much as a thought to what he might want or think.

Cameron met his eyes, uncertain.

“Go ahead, Cam.”

“Well… we can’t fly or ride a train. You’ve been saying that driving into DC is suicide. So why not get there another way?”

“Another way,” Julian repeated.

“Oh God,” Ty muttered.

“Water,” Zane said, sounding surprised and irritated that none of them had thought of it before.

Julian slid his arm around Cameron’s waist, squeezing him.

“Getting our hands on a boat won’t be easy,” Ty said, sounding grim. “We’d have to take a smuggler’s line down the coast.”

“Avoid the Coast Guard, and slip into port without a course plotted or papers,” Zane added. “That’s if we can find a boat.”

Livi perked up and smiled. “Daddy has a boat.”

Deuce cleared his throat. “I think they’re thinking more inconspicuous than your dad’s yacht, honey.”

“Oh wait, I think they took it to St. Vincent.”

“Yacht?” Ty said with a smirk at his brother.

“She’s smart, beautiful, and loaded. What’s not to love?” Deuce drawled, matching the smirk with one of his own.

“I’m a trust fund baby—both of you shut up,” Livi said.

Zane was smiling at her and Ty was shaking his head, eyes focused on the pure-white carpet. “I know someone who has a boat.”

Zane looked at his partner, one eyebrow raised. Ty glanced sideways at him and winced.

“Who?” Zane asked.

“You’re not going to like it.”

Chapter 15

THEY used Livi and her incomparable charm to gain access to the private port on the Delaware River where her father kept his yacht. She sweet-talked one of the skippers into letting them take a small boat out for a “joy ride,” and in less than an hour they had set sail down the Delaware toward open water.

By the time night fell, they had reached the coordinates they’d been given. They anchored there, bobbing in the choppy water, to wait.

Zane and the others thanked Deuce and Livi for their help and then went out on the cockpit to let Ty say goodbye. Zane watched through the window as he hugged Livi. She put her hand to her belly in a gesture Zane knew meant Ty was telling her he was happy for them. Zane’s lips twitched in a smile. He liked Livi, and he couldn’t wait to hear about her meeting Ty and Deuce’s family. It also made him sad, though; he wouldn’t be introduced to Ty’s family in the same way she would be any time soon.

Ty gave Deuce a tight hug, holding onto him for longer than he usually did as he spoke to him. Then he handed Deuce the last of their cash, and Zane knew he was telling his brother to get out of town for a few days and not to use his credit cards.

Zane had to fight back a jangle of nerves. He had to believe that the CIA agents after them wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they were in the path of Julian Cross. Deuce would be fine. He hoped.

A beacon of light on the water caught his eye, and he squinted into the moonless night.

“Ty!” he called as a completely different type of nervousness settled over him. “He’s here.”

When Ty had mentioned Nick O’Flaherty’s name, saying his old Recon buddy had a boat they could use, Zane had sort of expected a dinghy. He had imagined Nick inhabiting some seedy apartment over an Irish pub in South Boston. That was the impression he’d gotten from Ty’s oldest friend when he was blind and could only hear him speak. So he was surprised when a sleek sixty-foot Outer Reef 580 Motoryacht glided into the view of the little boat’s running lights.

Julian whistled from the railing where he was watching the yacht. “Not cheap. I thought you said your friend was a cop.”

“He is,” Ty said as he checked the magazine in his gun.

“Is he on the take?”

Ty looked up to glare at him. He didn’t answer, instead heading for the stern of the boat to call out to Nick and help him secure the gangplank they would use to switch boats.

Zane was scowling as he watched Ty and the shadowed figure on the other boat. Julian was right; that was not a bargain basement way to live. Zane found himself wondering how Nick afforded it.

He drew a steadying breath and then rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t be nervous. Nick knew who he was, even if Zane had never laid eyes on Nick. He watched as Ty spoke with the man, able to overhear them in the still night.

“Let me guess,” Nick’s Boston accent said in amusement. “Strippergram?”

“Yeah, let us in so we can steal your watch in the morning,” Ty muttered. The sense of humor explained why this man and Ty had become such close friends, but it also made Zane want to hate him a little more.

“We’d better get going if we intend to go unnoticed,” Nick called out as soon as they had the gangplank secured.

They boarded the yacht one at a time, Zane’s stomach in knots. Zane realized that he was desperately hoping that Mr. Nick O’Flaherty was an unfortunate-looking individual.

It was a few seconds later, when they all gathered in the salon, that Zane truly got a look at Nick for the first time as he hurried past them toward the pilothouse. He looked about Ty’s age, ruggedly handsome and clean-shaven with short strawberry-blond hair and ivy-green eyes. He was a few inches shorter than Zane, but then, most men were. He was built solidly, not as broad as Ty or Zane at the shoulders, but obviously fit. Damn him.

He wore faded jeans, a thick cable-knit sweater, and boots. The gun in his jeans told Zane he’d been expecting trouble.

They followed him through the boat, Ty moving into the pilothouse with Nick as the others stood in the galley in the middle of the yacht.

“Garrett, good to see you in one piece,” Nick said with a nod as he slid into the pilot’s seat.

“Well, it’s good to see anything,” Zane said, unable to look at Nick without thinking about how he had kissed the man Zane loved. He pushed that aside for now.

“I think we got here clean,” Ty said as he turned and waved for Julian and Cameron to join them.

“Same. What the fuck have you guys gotten into?” Nick asked.

Ty shrugged and looked around the pilothouse uneasily. Nick watched him and then turned in his seat to look at Zane.

Zane didn’t know how much Nick had been told, because Ty had spoken to him in Farsi on the phone. He stood in the galley of Nick’s yacht, trying to think of anything to fill the awkward silence that didn’t end with punching Nick in the face.

He couldn’t come up with anything, and so they stood in silence as Cameron gave Nick a weak smile and stepped forward to shake his hand. “I know you don’t know us. But thank you.”

“Ty says you need help. You got it.” He offered his hand to Cameron, then to Julian when the Irishman moved closer, introducing himself to each of them.

Zane pursed his lips as he looked around the yacht. It was sumptuous, all black leather and lacquered teak wood, shining stainless steel and top-of-the-line everything. The furniture in the salon was all built-in, heavy and luxurious, with a large television in place on the wall that separated the salon from the galley. Stairs led from the galley to an upper deck. When Zane looked around, it didn’t feel like it fit Nick at all. But then, he didn’t know Nick very well.

“So,” Nick said with false cheer. “Tell me about the people trying to kill you this time.”

“The less you know….”

“Bite me, Grady.”

“Bathroom?” Zane asked before the conversation could devolve further.

Nick pointed toward the steps that led down, right beside where he sat. “Take a right, that’s the VIP head. Left is the master. Whichever.”

Zane headed for the stairs, feeling like he was descending into the pit as he ducked and hunched his shoulders to make it down the curving stairwell. He discreetly looked around the lower cabins to try and get a feel for the man who’d made a move on his lover just a few weeks ago.

The most prominent pictures on the walls were of Nick in uniform, surrounded by smiling Marines. Very similar to Ty’s photos at home. Zane stopped and stared at one when he caught sight of a younger Ty. There were six men, all in various stages of dress, some standing, some kneeling, looking as if they had been roughhousing or playing during downtime while deployed on a carrier. Ty and Nick were front and center, wearing only pants and combat boots, both tanned from hours in the sun and salt air, their dog tags prominent on bare chests. All six men were grinning, arms around each other. Ty was holding a football, balancing it on the tip of his fingers as he displayed it for the camera.

Zane could hear Ty filling Nick in on the basics of what had happened, giving him the condensed version in typical Ty fashion. He turned toward the head before he could let himself get sucked into that vortex of uncertainty again. Ty may have looked happy in old pictures, but Zane knew Ty was happy now too.

When he returned, Nick and Ty were still discussing what needed to be done. Cameron was sitting in a corner booth that was tucked into the other side of the pilothouse, and Julian was looking askance at the low ceilings as if he might hit his head when he took a step.

“How long will it take us to get to DC?” Ty was asking Nick.

“A day, two if we can only travel at night.”

“No, we need to keep a regular schedule. Travel by day, anchor at night.”

“You sure?”

Ty nodded as he rubbed his hand over his face.

“Have you dumped your cells?” Nick asked.

“Cell phones, a few cars, credit cards, badges, guns, my watch. Everything we could think of that might have been bugged or can be tracked electronically.”

“At least you’re not wearing tinfoil hats yet.”

“Only when we sleep,” Ty muttered.

“You told me on the phone that you called Digger. Was that true, or were you trying to give me a message?”

“It was true. I told him that we were coming to him so whoever was listening could overhear, and then let him know that it was a decoy.”

“Coconuts?

“Yeah.”

“So, somewhere in the bayou, Digger is preparing for the arrival of an unfriendly?”

“In theory.”

Nick glanced at Julian and Zane and then rubbed his hand over his mouth. “God help the poor bastard that shows up on his doorstep,” he muttered.

Ty huffed a laugh. “We tried to lay low a couple places, but they kept finding us. I finally realized they were pinging the receiver in my watch. We headed to Philly, but… I can’t risk Deacon.”

“Understood.”

Zane wondered if Nick had any qualms about Ty risking him. He didn’t let on if he did.

“I pulled out the limit from every ATM I passed while I was on duty, so I’ve got a couple thousand for you. That’s the best I can do, but I can give you my card when we make port.”

“Thank you,” Ty whispered.

Nick nodded and then glanced at the rest of them. “You all look like half-eaten sushi.”

Zane found himself fighting back a smile, and he nodded instead.

“You’re a police officer?” Cameron asked Nick, who nodded. “Isn’t there something you can do? Someone you can call to help us?”

Nick looked at him for a moment with a sympathetic frown, and then he glanced at Ty.

“The CIA is slightly out of his reach, love,” Julian murmured. He put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder and squeezed, trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, sounding sincere.

Ty met Zane’s eyes, and Zane knew exactly what he was thinking. They were going to get Cameron out of this alive even if it killed them.

“These two need a bed together,” Ty murmured to Nick as he waved a hand at Julian and Cameron.

Nick raised an eyebrow but nodded without commenting. “You can take my cabin,” he told Julian. He stood, making sure Ty had the wheel first, and then he gestured for them to follow as he ducked down the stairs. Julian and Cameron followed with murmured good-nights to Ty and Zane.

Zane moved to sit in the booth near Ty. He wasn’t sure what Ty wanted to do, though he expected visiting with Nick to be high on the list tonight. Zane didn’t really want to visit with Nick, though, and he sure as hell didn’t want Ty doing it. It bothered him enough that Ty knew his way around Nick’s boat. But he had to trust Ty, and it had to start somewhere, so why not here?

“You okay?” Ty asked as he fiddled with the controls of the yacht.

Zane pursed his lips. “Every time I look at him I want to knock his lights out.”

Ty shrugged as he kept his hand on the wheel and then glanced down the stairwell. “So do it.”

“What?”

“Do it, Zane. If it’ll make you feel better, slug him.”

Zane took in a deep breath, truly contemplating it. But he knew it wouldn’t make anything better in the end, and he was suspicious of Ty’s easy agreement.

Nick returned a few moments later.

“VIP cabin’s all set up,” he told them as he stepped into the galley and opened the refrigerator. He still had his gun stuffed in the small of his back. “Clean sheets and everything.”

“Improvement over last time,” Ty muttered.

“You had a sheet last time. And it was sort of clean.”

“Yeah, on top of a pool float that was anchored to the flybridge,” Ty said as he pointed up.