ick led the way out of the pub, holding the door for the others and giving the street a cursory glance out of habit. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention, and standing on the other side of the street was Julian Cross. His hands were in his pockets, his head cocked as he watched them.
Nick let the door fall away from his hand, and it closed in Kelly’s face. Nick heard the impact and the cussing that accompanied it, but he took a step toward the road anyway.
“Hey!” he shouted.
Cross merely shook his head, then turned and melted into the lunchtime crowd. Glass shattered behind Nick, accompanied by the pops of gunfire. Nick lunged for a nearby car, glancing back at the others. They were still inside the restaurant. Kelly had gotten them to cover as soon as he’d sensed that Nick had seen something.
Nick drew his gun and crouched behind the car, trying to decide where the shots had originated. Was it Cross? No one was that fast, the shots were coming from an entirely different location. If the shooter had been aiming for Nick, they’d have hit him. The shots sprayed the door to the pub instead, ruining the entryway, gouging holes in the brick and mortar.
“Doc!” Nick shouted above the din. He couldn’t see any of them, and he prayed they’d gotten to cover.
Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. An otherworldly silence fell on the normally bustling street. Nick waited a few breaths before peering over the top of the car. All he saw were people flattened on the sidewalks, covering their heads. No one was running. No one was trying to conceal a weapon.
Glass tinkled behind him, and Nick saw Kelly crouching against the doorframe, gaze raking the street.
“You okay?” he called to Nick.
Nick nodded. He gestured for Kelly to retreat back into the restaurant, and Kelly immediately backed into the dim interior. Nick peered over the car again. People were cautiously raising their heads, crying, looking around like frightened animals in an earthquake.
Then one man rose calmly to his feet, brushed off his black overcoat, and began walking down the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.
Nick stood. “Cross!”
Julian didn’t hesitate or look back. He broke into a sprint. Nick lunged to his feet and gave chase.
Kelly shoved away from the doorway and onto the sidewalk as soon as Nick bolted. He put a hand on his head, cursing under his breath. His eyes scanned the building tops and the people who were slowly getting to their feet. He didn’t see any threats. Whoever had opened fire on them had retreated by now.
“Did he get eyes on the shooter?” Hagan shouted as he jogged out to join Kelly. He stood on his tiptoes to catch sight of Nick and the man he was chasing.
They could see both men dodging passersby, veering out into the road as the chase carried them toward the massive intersection that Kelly was pretty sure bordered Boston Commons.
“He’s gaining on him,” JD said. He had joined them without Kelly realizing it.
Kelly glanced around, then put a hand on JD’s shoulder. “You need to get back inside, come on.”
Several cops had been eating at the pub, both on and off duty, and they streamed out to help contain the scene. Hagan stood in the doorway, calling in the incident and requesting backup for his partner, who was in pursuit of a suspect.
Kelly finally gave in and climbed on top of the ruined car Nick had taken cover behind. He stretched to see down the narrow street, trying to find either man. He finally caught sight of Nick, trudging back down the sidewalk, alone.
“Oh, he’s going to be so pissed,” Hagan grumbled as soon as Kelly relayed the information.
When Nick got closer, he was indeed fuming.
“What happened?” Kelly demanded.
“I lost him!” Nick snapped.
“Was it the shooter?” Hagan asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why’d you chase him down?” Hagan asked.
Nick sighed heavily and shrugged at Kelly. “You know the holes in my boat?” he asked Hagan.
“Yeah, but it still floats.”
“Right. That was the guy. Cross. I’ve seen him twice now, once at the murder scene, and just now. He’s up to something.”
Hagan flopped his arms dramatically. “Why is the CIA robbing a bookstore in Boston?”
“Are… are you saying I might be CIA?” JD asked incredulously.
“No,” Nick and Hagan both said at the same time.
“I thought Cross got out of the game,” Kelly said. “Why’s he back in it?”
Nick shook his head and lowered it a little, like a bull preparing to charge. His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Kelly tensed, like he might need to talk Nick down from something. He rarely needed to, because Nick’s control of his temper was near legendary. But when he did… Kelly had put him on his back a few times to keep him from hurting someone.
“Cross wasn’t the one taking shots at our witness, so let’s worry about him later and get JD somewhere safe,” Nick finally said through gritted teeth.
“This place have a back door?” Kelly asked.
Hagan indicated for them to follow him. Nick shrugged out of his suit coat and put it around JD’s shoulders, and he stole a Red Sox hat from the coat rack as they passed by it and placed it on JD’s head.
“Eyes on the ground,” Nick murmured close to his ear.
JD pulled the hat lower and hunched his shoulders, shrugging into Nick’s coat as they stepped into the narrow alleyway behind the pub. He and Hagan started off toward the end of the alley, but Nick stopped and pulled Kelly aside.
“If the words ‘I want you to go home until it’s safe’ come out of your mouth, I’m going to break one of your ribs,” Kelly told him before Nick could speak.
Nick finally tore his eyes away from JD’s retreating form and met Kelly’s with a small smile. “You know me better than that.” He bent and took his spare gun from a holster at his ankle, then pressed it into Kelly’s hands. “I do want you do go back to the Fiddler, though, and get two spares for us. You know where I keep them?”
“In every nook and cranny you can find.” Kelly automatically checked the gun, even though he knew Nick would have it loaded and ready.
“Good. Ammo’s in a galley drawer. If you’re going to be shot at, you might as well be able to shoot back.”
Kelly nodded silently. “What’s the plan? With the witness, I mean?”
“We’ll have to find him a new safe house. Make sure we’re not tailed. They knew he was at the precinct; we have to assume the hotel is blown.” Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes focused on something over Kelly’s shoulder. “I’m thinking about putting him on the Fiddler.”
Kelly glanced up at him, eyes widening. “You’re going to hide a witness on your boat?”
“The marina has security. We’d both be there; we’ll pull Hagan too. We can put her out in the harbor each night, make it a job to get to him.”
“Nick.”
Nick met his eyes again, and they were hard as jade. The stunning color almost made Kelly stutter.
He took a deep breath. “Look, I know you’ve got a soft spot for this guy, but you’ve got to remember he might not be what he says he is.”
“Soft spot?”
“Please,” Kelly said with weak laugh. “If we weren’t a thing, you’d be all over him.”
Nick opened his mouth to protest, then shut it with a snap of his teeth. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. A sly smile came over him and he hooked his finger through Kelly’s belt loop. “But we are a thing.”
Kelly allowed him a brief kiss, just enough time for him to get back in Kelly’s good graces, then he playfully shoved Nick away and turned to follow after Hagan and JD.
“Making out in back alleys!” Hagan called to Nick. “Old habits die hard, huh buddy?”
“Shut up!”
“You want me to sleep on a boat?” Hagan asked. “You remember I get seasick, right?”
“When you give me a better idea, I’ll run with it,” Nick challenged. He knew it wasn’t a perfect plan, and it wouldn’t hold up for long, but until they had a safe house they could be confident in, he would rather keep JD close.
JD sat in the hard plastic chair beside their desks, frowning as he listened. “I wonder if I get seasick,” he mused. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Nick glanced at him, then back at his partner. “Why does the guy with amnesia who’s been shot at twice in two days complain less than you do?”
Hagan grumbled and stood, tossing his tie over his shoulder in a huff. He grabbed his empty coffee cup to go off in search of a refill.
Nick sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head and closing his eyes with a sigh.
“Detective?” JD whispered. He waited until Nick had opened his eyes again to continue. “When the shooting started today, I remembered something.”
Nick sat forward. “Yeah? What was it?”
“A face. It like… flashed through my mind. I think it might be the guy who shot at me before.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Yeah, dark hair, blue eyes—”
“Not to me, to an artist. Hold on.” Nick reached for the phone. “This is Detective O’Flaherty, Robbery/Homicide. I need an artist up here to work with my witness.”
The woman gave him confirmation and he hung up, turning his chair so he could face JD. “Okay. So far I’ve got these little threads to this case, and I can’t seem to tie any of them together. I need your help.”
Fear settled in JD’s eyes in a way Nick felt almost guilty for. He’d been coddling the man, wanting him to feel safe, but someone had tried to put a second bullet in him today. It was time to take off the gloves.
JD’s jaw hardened, though, and he nodded. “Whatever you need from me.”
“I’m going to give you three subjects, okay, and you tell me off the top of your head what they have to do with each other.”
JD’s brow furrowed, but he nodded anyway.
Nick held up his hand and counted off. “American Revolution. Ireland. Stolen goods.”
JD opened his mouth like he was going to respond, then shut it again, staring off over Nick’s shoulder with a scowl. He opened his mouth again, leaning forward, then sat back and frowned harder. “The Continental payroll gold.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Yeah. The Continental payroll! There was a redcoat lieutenant during the war. The legend is that he and his men intercepted a Continental Army payroll delivery somewhere. Took off with a wagon full of gold bars as it sat at a roadside inn.”
Nick ran a finger over one eyebrow, trying not to look skeptical, or worse, annoyed. He was writing all of it down anyway. “Okay. Go on.”
“That’s… that’s all I know. The gold was never recovered.”
Nick stared at him for a few seconds, and Hagan returned and flopped into his seat, looking between them silently.
“Okay,” Nick said patiently. “What does a missing Continental Army payroll have to do with Ireland?”
“The lieutenant was later revealed to be a supporter of Ireland. He was involved in the Irish Rebellion of 1798.”
“What are we talking about now?” Hagan asked.
Nick sighed heavily. “I told him to give me a connection between all our threads. Revolutionary War objects, Irish thugs, and stealing shit.”
Hagan placed a fresh cup of coffee by Nick’s elbow. He pointed at JD. “You can’t remember your own name, but you can recite facts about the fucking Irish Rebellion of seventeen whatever it was?”
JD shrugged one shoulder, looking a little perturbed. “At least I can remember he doesn’t like coffee,” he said with a jab of his finger at Nick.
“Ha!” Nick barked.
“Friendly fire,” Hagan said. He put on a fake Irish accent. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
Nick fired up his computer. “We’ll just Google this bitch.” A few moments later he’d brought up a search page for the British lieutenant’s name. Almost every result was about the lost Revolutionary War treasure. Nick clicked the first one.
JD moved his chair so he could see the screen too. It was a chat board for amateur treasure seekers, with each post offering theories on where the gold had gone, stories about the poster having gone searching for it somewhere, and the occasional person telling everyone else they were stupid.
“See?” JD said. He pointed at one of the posts. “Right here in Boston.”
Nick looked sideways at him, studying his profile while JD’s attention was elsewhere. It was hard to forget the many warnings that had popped up about JD’s authenticity, including the one from Kelly, but Nick hadn’t felt like he was being lied to once. The man struck him as genuine.
Kelly cleared his throat as he approached the desk. Nick looked up at him, still scowling thoughtfully.
“Everything okay?” Kelly asked carefully.
“You know our treasure hunter theory?” Nick asked, wincing at their private joke. Kelly nodded. “We might have been a little too on the nose.”
“What are you talking about?” Kelly craned his neck to see the computer. Nick watched his changeable eyes as they darted over the screen, scanning the posts. “Stolen Continental payroll?”
“They were paid in gold bars and coins,” JD provided.
“Meaning if it was hidden somewhere and left there, it’s worth millions today,” Kelly surmised. “Yeah okay, that’s worth killing over.”
“Before you guys go all Indiana O’Flaherty on me,” Hagan drawled, “what does that lost treasure have to do with our case?”
Nick took a breath to answer, but he realized he didn’t exactly know. They all looked to JD.
“I… I didn’t say it had anything to do with the robbery,” JD reminded them, his blue eyes going wider. “You gave me three things to associate, I associated them.”
Kelly sat on the edge of Nick’s desk, turned sideways so he could still see Hagan and the computer screen. “What was the other thing stolen from the place? One was the brooch, what was the other?”
Nick tapped Kelly’s knee to get him to scoot over, and he unlocked the desk drawer beneath him and reached in for the file. He set it on the desk and opened it up to find the photos. “It was a bundle of letters.”
“Bundle of letters,” Kelly echoed. “What the hell?”
“Yeah, the brooch I get, it had a few precious gems on it,” Hagan said. “But the letters are… parchment. Tied with twine. No value whatsoever.”
“The value of words is measured by those who read them,” JD told him. He stopped short, scowling hard. “Is that a quote? What is that from? Did I come up with that?”
Nick almost laughed at him. He bit his lip to keep a straight face instead, and held up the photo the bookstore owner’s daughter had provided of the stolen items. Kelly took it from him, looking it over in silence.
“These are Revolutionary War era?” he finally asked. Nick nodded. “Do we know what they said?”
“The daughter said her father had them transcribed once, because the handwriting was hard to decipher. She’s trying to hunt up the file, said she’d email it when she found it. Why, what are you thinking?”
“I mean, if we go on the theory these people are hunting this lost payroll treasure, this makes sense,” Kelly said with a tap of the photo. “These are contemporary accounts. And you said one of the books they stole was a soldier’s diary, right?”
“Yeah, he was at the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and later Bunker Hill.”
“Concord?” JD asked. “After their defeat, several British columns broke off and scattered across the countryside as they retreated along Battle Road to Boston. One of those could easily have intercepted a payroll delivery.”
“Why hide it instead of making off with it?” Hagan asked.
“And desert the British Imperial Army?” JD shook his head, grinning widely. “Might as well take a knife to the eye, you’d live longer. The theory is they hid it somewhere, intending to come back for it when the war was won.”
“Only they didn’t win the war,” Nick said.
JD clucked his tongue. He looked pleased with himself for the first time since they’d met him, but the expression faded quickly. He glanced down at his hands, twisting his fingers together.
“You okay, bud?” Kelly asked him.
JD gave them a weak attempt at a smile. “I know more about this than I do about myself.”
“You do know a lot more about this than most,” Kelly agreed. “At least you can remember it; that’s a good sign.”
Nick raised his head as an idea hit him. “Do they fingerprint college professors?” he asked Hagan.
Hagan pursed his lips. “Not to my knowledge. Some universities are starting to, but only for new hires.”
“School’s out, right? What if he’s a professor at a local college? If he lived alone, no one might know he was gone until classes start back.”
“No missing persons report would be filed yet,” Hagan said with a nod.
“Send his photo out to every institution in a fifty mile radius. See if we can get a hit.”
“On it,” Hagan said, and he lurched out of his chair.
“College professor, huh?” JD said quietly. “Not international treasure thief. You’re awfully optimistic, Detective.”
“That’s what we love about him,” Kelly said, and when Nick raised his head, Kelly’s eyes were on him, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Nick squeezed his knee, keeping his hand there.
“What’s the next move?” JD asked. If he was uncomfortable with Nick and Kelly’s small shows of affection, he didn’t let on.
“After you work with the sketch artist, we’ll get you somewhere safe. The Fiddler’s Green should do the trick, just need to get the captain to sign off on it.”
JD scowled, biting his lip instead of saying anything.
“What?”
“I just… if these people are trying to kill me, the only way I’ll really be safe is if they’re caught. We should try to find the treasure they’re after.”
Nick laughed and scratched at his chin. “Find the treasure.”
“Right?” JD asked eagerly. “We find the treasure, we find them, and I don’t have to duck in alleyways anymore.”
“I get you, I do,” Nick offered. “But I’m a cop, man, not a treasure hunter. I told you I’d keep you safe, that I’d find out who you are, and that’s what I intend to do.”
JD sat back in his plastic chair, nodding dejectedly. A few moments later the sketch artist arrived, and she took JD into one of the interrogation pods where they could work.
Kelly slid into the chair, his knee knocking against Nick’s thigh as he slouched. “Why did you play dumb with him?” Kelly asked quietly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Battle of Bunker Hill. Lexington and Concord. Missing treasure right here under your nose in Boston. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t know anything about any of that, you goddamn history nerd.”
Nick’s lips twitched, and he sighed heavily. “I knew I’d regret fucking someone who’s known me for over a decade.”
Kelly snickered quietly, waiting for an answer.
“I wanted him to give us the information,” Nick explained. “I wanted to see if he’d be right, for one, if he’d omit anything important. Or lie.”
Kelly remained silent, watching him. Nick slid his hand over Kelly’s knee. “You’re dying to go digging into that treasure story, aren’t you?”
Nick nodded fervently, not even trying to deny it.
Kelly laughed, throwing his head back. He slumped further in the chair, and his knee slid along Nick’s thigh. Nick cleared his throat and glanced around the room, shifting uncomfortably.
“So what’s our real next move?”
“Julian Cross.” Nick leaned forward, his hand squeezing Kelly’s knee. “He’s out there for a reason, showing himself; we just need to bring him in. How do you feel about a little bait and switch?”
Kelly licked his lips, then grinned slowly. “Sounds about as fun as you bending me over one of those interrogation desks.”
Nick groaned and pushed his chair back so they were no longer in contact. “Don’t fucking tempt me, okay? Those rooms have video feeds.”
“Really? Do they record?”
Nick had to get up and walk away as Kelly laughed merrily at his desk. “You’re killing me, Kels,” he called over his shoulder. “Killing me!”
Kelly left before Hagan came back, and before JD was done with the sketch artist. He headed out of the front of the building, taking his time as he strolled toward the parking lot where Nick’s Range Rover was parked. He removed his black leather jacket and tossed it into the car, then rummaged in the backseat for Nick’s green canvas jacket instead. It was too big at the chest, but it didn’t envelop him. He gave his shoulders a shake and pulled the coat tighter around him as he meandered out of the parking lot. He wandered along the quaint little side streets of Boston, enjoying the architecture, window-shopping until he was near the station again. He leaned against the side of a building, standing near a pillar and watching.
They had put JD in Nick’s suit coat again, covering his shaggy blond hair with the pilfered Red Sox hat and walking him down the back alley behind the police station toward Nick’s Range Rover.
Nick walked alongside him, his hand loose on JD’s elbow. Kelly knew himself well enough to know he was a little jealous of the chemistry Nick and JD seemed to have. But he also knew Nick well enough to know he didn’t need to be worried.
He reminded himself what he was supposed to be doing, and he glanced around the area, watching the shadows, watching the narrows. Nick was supposed to lead JD into a bottleneck, where a fence jutted out near a big blue dumpster and would force them to veer toward the entrance to a side alley, and that was where Kelly headed.
He was almost too late. As soon as Nick and JD neared the alley, Nick shoved JD to the side and pulled his gun, obviously seeing something coming out of the corner of his eye.
Kelly moved with lightning speed, hitting the big man from the side and wrapping him up as they fell. He rolled with him, then let him loose, sending him into an uncontrolled tumble as Kelly hopped to his feet. Before Julian Cross could right himself, Kelly was on him again. He kicked at his chest, and Julian blocked the blow, but he wasn’t fast enough to block the next one when Kelly came up with a roundhouse kick that caught him in the side of the head and sent him sprawling.
Julian was on his hands and knees, pushing himself to his feet, and Kelly went at him again. Julian was at least four inches taller than he was, but Kelly didn’t care. Size had never fazed him before. He aimed high this time, landing a few blows around the ribs and kidneys, missing a few as Julian blocked them. Then Kelly went in for the kill, leaping at Julian with a kick to the chest that should’ve leveled him. Julian brought up both hands, though, catching Kelly’s foot. Kelly went with the momentum, kicking off the ground and using Julian’s hold on him for leverage. He caught Julian under the chin as he flipped himself backward, and he landed in a crouch several feet from his opponent.
He was breathing hard, body tense in expectation of Julian getting up again. He heard Nick’s footsteps behind him and he stood slowly. Nick patted him on the shoulder as they both stood over Julian, who was holding his face and lying on his back, cursing in an Irish accent.
“That’s a lot more fun to watch when it’s not me you’re doing it to,” Nick told Kelly, his voice warm with pride and possibly a little lust.
Kelly smirked at him.
Nick grabbed Julian by his elbow and hefted him off the ground, then jerked his arms behind him and shoved him against the wall of the nearest building. He patted him down from head to toe, taking special care around his wrists. Kelly wound up holding an armful of weaponry and other… implements. Then Nick slapped a pair of handcuffs on Julian and hissed in his ear. “Welcome to Boston.”