Imperial Stout by Layla Reyne

Author:Layla Reyne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-18T15:35:12+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It was early morning when Nic pulled his truck into the parking garage, the shift in light from outside to underground negligible, the heavy spring fog blanketing everything in soupy gray. Between the cement pillars and slanted ramps, the mist that rolled down the ramp played in the nooks and crannies, making the shadows come to life. Born and raised in the Bay Area, Nic was old friends with the fog, had greatly missed it during his tours in the dessert, but it had its creeptastic moments.

Palming his phone, he stared at the dark screen. Other than work emails, it’d been silent since last night. No more unknown calls, and no word from Cam either. Nic didn’t expect it. Cam was deep undercover. They had to assume all communication would be monitored. His phone, a burner, had likely been taken and bugged. But not even knowing if the meet had happened, much less whether Becca had accepted Cam into the crew—or God forbid, taken him hostage—had kept Nic up until the wee hours. Sleep eluding him, he’d eventually dragged his ass into the brewery to do paperwork, which finally knocked him out.

A couple hours’ shut-eye and more pain in his sore body to show for it. If he was going to be halfway functional in court later this morning, he needed coffee, STAT, but even those shops weren’t open for another half hour. And he’d be damned if he’d get stuck with office sludge again today.

He climbed out of his truck, dug his briefcase from behind his seat and slammed the door shut. He’d taken two steps toward the elevator when something pinged his periphery.

Motion, in a dark corner, the other direction, diagonally behind him.

Were Vaughn’s men stupid enough to follow him here? In a garage with a police car pool monitored by security cameras? Or maybe it was Vaughn’s inside guy? Because the more Nic thought about that last night in his wide-awake hours, he was sure of it. Someone, in either his or Aidan’s office, had to be tipping Vaughn off as to when and where they might be able to disguise an attempt or threat on his life. To pressure a father who couldn’t give two shits about him. Someone’s intel was wrong; he was not the leverage they needed. And if they did know that, then they were trying to pressure him, directly, to pay for his old man’s debts.

Nic didn’t turn toward where he’d detected the motion. Using his side-view mirror instead, he kept an eye on the area behind him while lowering his briefcase and reaching for his sidearm. As fog curled out of the suspect corner, Nic cursed himself for falling prey to the mist’s tricks. Until he felt another pair of eyes on him, up the ramp to the next level. He nudged the side-view mirror, angling it for a better look. Was that someone skirting back from the ramp’s edge?

He flipped the strap on his holster, fingers curling around the butt of his pistol.

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