is.”
“Perhaps you know him better as Julian Bailey?” the man called Special Agent Grady said drily. “Or Sir? Maybe even Boss?”
Cameron frowned as he shook his head. Surely federal agents would be nicer than this. He looked them up and down. And better dressed. “I’m sorry, but you have the wrong….” He frowned harder as he remembered the last time he had said those words, maybe fifteen minutes ago. “Was that you on the speaker?” he asked in outrage.
The man who had introduced them smiled slowly. To Cameron, it was like a dangerous animal showing its teeth. He frowned, looking over the man’s windblown, curly hair, piercing eyes, and a crooked nose that had probably been broken at least twice. The smile was probably meant to put him at ease.
Special Agent Grady flipped over the badge he’d been holding and pulled aside his leather jacket to slide it into an inner pocket. The move revealed a fairly large weapon in a holster under his arm. Whether he did it on purpose didn’t really matter; his point was made.
“Would you mind opening the door so we can have a word, Mr. Jacobs?” Special Agent Garrett asked in a businesslike tone. “Or you can just point us toward Cross and we’ll be out of your hair.”
“I do mind,” Cameron objected, his back straightening as he pulled his hand back to slam the door shut.
Grady’s hand shot out in a flash, stopping the door from closing. He stepped closer and lowered his head, as if he might be about to share a secret. Everything about him screamed military to Cameron, from his gruff tone to his quick reflexes to his impressive athletic build.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to fix a chain that’s been ripped off a doorjamb?” Special Agent Grady asked calmly. “Or how much it hurts my shoulder to put it through a solid oak door? This is oak, right? It’s very nice.”
Cameron pushed hard against the door, and it made no difference at all. He glanced at Special Agent Garrett, who was taller, darker, and not offering any sympathy. This was not looking good. Not at all. So Cameron nodded jerkily and reached to unhook the chain, aware that Julian would read him the riot act for this.
Of course, Julian would yell at him for opening the door in the first place. But only a little bit.
Chain undone, Cameron took several steps back and gathered himself to reach for his phone and Julian’s speed dial emergency number as he watched his four calf-high white Westies charge the strangers entering the apartment.
Special Agent Grady moved in slowly, his body turned almost sideways as his eyes scanned the room. His hand was on his weapon.
Cameron had seen Julian enter rooms in a similar fashion, and it set off even more warning bells. The man looked down at the four dogs and balked, side-stepping and gesturing for his partner to come in.
It was Cameron’s chance. Cameron reached into his pocket for his cell phone and fumbled with it, trying to be inconspicuous about it. He hoped that he managed to hit the key combination for the prewritten text he needed to send.
Special Agent Garrett shut the door gently, and the strangers moved steadily into Cameron’s condo. The more he watched the agents, the more they reminded him of Julian. They were on guard but confident. “I don’t know who you’re looking for. There’s no one else here.”
“We know,” Grady told him. He smiled and nodded to the pocket Cameron still had his hand stuffed into. “He’ll be here soon, though. Take a load off, kid. It won’t be so bad.” He stretched out broad muscles and rolled his neck, the movement shifting his coat, revealing a specialty T-shirt. Grady turned to look down at the yipping dogs in distaste, and then he looked up at his partner.
Special Agent Garrett tipped his head to one side before focusing on Cameron. From twelve feet away, his eyes appeared to be flat black, and Cameron felt like he was pinned in place.
“How do you know Mr. Cross, Mr.
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