Page 63 of Saving Noah

The street cop looked worriedly at Wayne and then at Zach sitting in the back. “Is it, uh, okay to talk?”

Zach contemplated reaching through the open window and ripping the guy’s head off. Police protocol be damned, he needed to get to Cameron’s apartment. He needed to get to Noah.

“Yeah,” Connor answered quickly. “What’s going on?”

“Got a call to 911 about a jumper, but I think it’s quickly escalated to something else.” He glanced over in the direction of the parking lot and nodded to two black SUVs sitting there. “Not sure what happened to tip the PD off it might be more than a suicide, but the next thing you know, the FBI is on site.” He rolled his eyes and added, “Acting like almighty pricks. In my opinion, they’re definitely living up to their negative reputations. Strolling around, barking orders at our men like they don’t have the God-given sense to wipe their own asses.”

Jumper? There was a jumper? FBI on site? Zach’s stomach started rolling again and, just like that, he shifted from stage two denial to stage three anger. Was it the same fucking FBI entrusted to keep Noah safe from the Moretti family? Well, they’d done a fine fucking job at that.

So did I.

The voice inside his head mocked him. He’d let Noah down. Him…only him. First, he’d blamed Connor and now the FBI. The only person to blame was him, because he was the one who loved Noah. He was the one Noah depended on to keep him safe.

“Got a name on the jumper?” Connor asked quietly as he scanned the parking lot and then up to the top floor of the complex where curtains fluttered in the wind.

“Yeah,” the cop answered, lowering his voice. “He worked for the DA’s office. I guess that’s what all the hoopla’s about. His name was Cameron Maverick. I’d run into him a couple of times—real dick, but didn’t deserve this.” He waved his arm. “Whatever this turns out to be.”

Cameron was dead. Just like that, his last link to Noah had vanished.

“Was he alone in his apartment?”

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Well, as far as anybody is saying, he was alone. You know him, Detective?”

“Yeah, that’s who I was coming to visit. He’s a friend of a friend.” Connor’s gaze shifted to meet Zach’s in the mirror. “Can you get me into the parking lot? I need to have a conversation with those FBI guys,” Connor said.

Wayne whispered a curse, but kept his eyes glued to the action going on around them.

“Uh…yeah, definitely. If you knew the guy, you should talk to them. Give me a second.”

With that, he jogged toward the lot, dipped down to slide under the police tape, and went straight over to two men in suits. They screamed FBI. This was bad. This was really bad.

“The Moretti family is cleaning up,” Zach said. “I don’t get it, with the patriarch dead just last night, but this is a cleanup if I’ve ever seen one.”

Connor looked at Wayne and said, “You’re white as a sheet, man. It makes me sick to my stomach to ask this, and I don’t want you pissed at me, but do you need to pull a disappearing act?”

Connor was insinuating Wayne might be somebody the FBI didn’t need to see. Zach didn’t need to attend the police academy to recognize what was going on.

Wayne turned sad eyes on Connor. “Yeah, that would be for the best.” He glanced toward Zach sitting in the back seat and then to Connor again. “I’m not the bad guy. I promise.”

“I don’t think you are,” Connor answered quietly. “Please don’t let me be wrong.”

“I won’t let you down,” Wayne answered, slid out of the truck, and disappeared into the crowd of lookie-loos.

“What’s going on, Conn? Why do you think we can trust him?” Zach demanded. “I know you’re fucking him, but he’s…” Zach took a deep breath and finished with, “His reactions aren’t normal. Who would be afraid of the FBI seeing them? A criminal—that’s who. Who are criminals, Conn? The Moretti family—that’s who.”

“It’s more than just a fuck, Zach. There’s something between us, something special. I don’t know how I know this, but we can trust Wayne.”

“You trust Wayne,” Zach practically snarled. “I’ll stick with just trusting you.”

Before Connor could argue or convince him Wayne was a good guy, the cop moved the yellow tape and motioned for them to enter the parking lot. The two FBI men stood off to the side, their arms crossed over their chests, and their eyes wary.

“What are you going to tell them?” Zach asked. “Do you trust them, too?” He told himself he didn’t mean to keep being an ass, but he still didn’t put forth any effort to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“I’m going to tell them the truth, Zach. As for the trust… I’ll trust them until they give me a reason not to. The bottom line is we need to know what they know.” He parked the truck and looked at the two men waiting on him. “As if they’ll tell us anything,” he grumbled as he unbuckled. “Stay in the truck, Zach. I don’t need you losing your cool with the FBI.”

Zach ignored him and climbed out of the truck.

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