Page 10 of Oath of Protection (Blood Oath Bargains #1)

TEN

COMPLICATIONS

Morning came with the smell of coffee and the sound of Cam moving through the cabin like he was preparing for war instead of breakfast.

Nico lay in bed listening to him check locks, test communications equipment, maintain the same professional routine that had kept them both alive for weeks.

As if they hadn't spent half the night discovering exactly how good they were together.

As if everything hadn't changed between them in the dark.

He rolled over, studying the indentation in the pillow where Cam's head had been. They'd fallen asleep tangled together, but he'd woken up alone. Professional distance reasserted with the sunrise, apparently.

Nico found Cam in the kitchen, fully dressed, focused on his laptop screen with the kind of intensity that suggested he'd been avoiding eye contact for the better part of an hour.

"Morning," Nico said, pouring himself coffee and trying to read the tension in those shoulders.

"Morning." Cam's voice was carefully neutral. He still didn't look up from the screen. "Matt sent an encrypted update. The safe house was hit twenty minutes after we left. Professional work—they knew exactly what they were looking for."

Mr. Valente. After last night, after everything they'd shared, Cam was pulling back to formal distance like nothing had happened. Like they were back to being strangers with a business arrangement.

"Any casualties?" Nico kept his voice steady, but irritation was building in his chest.

"No. But they planted surveillance equipment. If we'd stayed..." Cam's fingers tightened on his coffee mug. "We'd be dead."

The words hung between them, loaded with implications. Someone had leaked their location with surgical precision, timing the attack for maximum effectiveness. This wasn't random violence—it was calculated elimination.

"Inside job," Nico said, settling into the chair across from him.

"Has to be. Too many people knew where you were." Finally, Cam looked at him, but his expression was carefully neutral, professionally distant. "Matt's running background checks on everyone with access."

Nico studied his face, looking for some sign of the man who'd whispered his name in the dark, who'd touched him like he was something precious. Found only careful walls rebuilt overnight.

"How long before it's safe to go back?"

"Could be days. Could be weeks." Cam closed the laptop, movements precise and controlled. "Depends on how quickly we can identify the leak."

They sat in the small kitchen, morning light streaming through windows that looked out on acres of forest. Isolated, secure, and utterly alone together. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable, filled with everything they weren't saying.

"About last night—" Nico started.

"Last night was..." Cam paused, choosing words carefully. "A mistake. Understandable given the circumstances, but it can't happen again."

A mistake. The words stung more than they should have. Nico felt his jaw tighten, but kept his voice level. "A mistake."

"Yes."

"That's what you call it?"

Cam's expression flickered—something vulnerable and raw before the walls snapped back up. "What would you call it?"

Nico wanted to say it felt like finding something he hadn't known he was looking for.

Like discovering that professional competence and careful control could hide something warm and desperate and utterly human.

Like the first time in years he'd felt safe enough to be completely vulnerable with another person.

Instead, he said, "I'd call it complicated."

"Exactly. And complications get people killed."

"So we just pretend it never happened?"

"We acknowledge that it happened, learn from it, and maintain appropriate boundaries going forward." Cam's voice stayed level, professional. "I'm here to keep you alive, not to..."

"Not to what?"

"Not to get personally involved in ways that compromise my judgment."

Nico took a slow sip of coffee, using the time to study his face. The man looked like he hadn't slept at all—shadows under his eyes, tension in every line of his body. Fighting his own instincts as hard as he was fighting this conversation.

"Your judgment seemed pretty good last night," Nico said carefully.

"Last night I let emotion override training. That's exactly what gets clients killed."

"Is that what I am? Just a client?"

The question hung between them for a long moment. Cam's control visibly frayed around the edges before he managed to rebuild it, but not before Nico caught sight of something desperate in his eyes.

"Yes," he said finally. "That's exactly what you are."

Obviously a lie, but Nico decided not to call him on it. Yet. Instead, he tested the boundaries Cam was trying to rebuild, letting his hand brush against his as he reached for the sugar. Watching how his breathing changed at the simple contact.

"The family will want an update," Nico said. "About our status."

"Already arranged. Video conference in twenty minutes." Cam was already moving, gathering equipment with military efficiency. "Your father wants a full briefing."

Nico caught the flash of something in his expression—nervousness, maybe, or the particular tension that came from knowing you were about to be evaluated by dangerous men who noticed everything.

"They like you," Nico said quietly.

"They tolerate me because I keep you alive."

"They respect you because you're good at what you do. There's a difference." Nico stood, moving close enough that he could smell his aftershave mixed with tension and the lingering scent of what they'd shared. "My family doesn't give their trust easily."

His eyes locked on Nico's face, and for a moment the careful walls slipped. "Nico..."

"What?"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. This... tension. It's affecting my judgment."

"How?"

"Because right now, instead of thinking about threat assessment and security protocols, I'm thinking about how you looked last night. How you felt." His voice was rough, unsteady. "That's dangerous thinking."

Nico stepped closer, close enough to see the way his pupils dilated slightly. "Maybe the dangerous thinking is pretending last night didn't matter."

"It can't matter. Not if I'm going to keep you alive."

"And if you're wrong? What if caring about me makes you better at protecting me, not worse?"

Before Cam could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression immediately shifting to business mode.

"Time for the call."

The video conference connected on Cam's encrypted laptop, showing the familiar paneled walls of Sal's office. Sal sat behind his desk looking every one of his sixty-five years, while Tony paced behind him with barely controlled energy.

"Nico." Relief flickered across Sal's face. "You're unharmed?"

"I'm fine, Pop. Cam got us out before they hit the location."

Tony stopped pacing long enough to study both of them through the camera. "How'd they find you so fast?"

"Someone with access leaked the location," Cam said, his voice professionally neutral. "We're working to identify the source."

"Any suspects?" Sal's question was directed at Cam, but his eyes never left Nico's face.

"A few possibilities. Vincent Torrino had access to safe house locations. So did several of the security team members."

Tony's expression darkened. "Torrino's clean. I vouched for him personally."

"With respect, sir, personal vouching doesn't override security concerns." His tone was respectful but firm. "The man has financial pressures and questionable connections."

"You questioning my judgment?"

Nico watched the exchange, noting how Cam held his ground despite Tony's obvious irritation. Professional competence in the face of family politics—exactly the kind of backbone that had impressed him from the beginning.

"I'm questioning the wisdom of trusting someone with that many vulnerabilities," Cam said calmly.

"What vulnerabilities?"

"Gambling debts, early retirement under suspicious circumstances, and known associates with ties to the Kozlov organization." His voice stayed level, but Nico could see tension in his shoulders. "Any one of those factors would be concerning. All three together..."

Sal leaned forward slightly. "You've done background work on our personnel?"

"I've done background work on everyone with access to information that could get your son killed." Cam met the old man's eyes without flinching. "That's my job."

"And what's your assessment of Vincent Torrino?"

"Liability. High risk for compromise, either through coercion or financial incentive." He glanced at Tony, then back to Sal. "I recommend immediate suspension pending thorough investigation."

Tony's face went red. "You're out of line. Torrino's been with us for three months, no problems, exemplary service?—"

"Exemplary service that put my client in a killbox." Cam's voice sharpened. "Someone leaked that location within hours of establishment. Someone with access, someone with motive."

Nico watched his family react to his certainty, saw his father's thoughtful expression and Tony's barely controlled anger.

But what struck him was how completely Cam had taken ownership of the situation, how he'd positioned himself as shield between Nico and any threat—even potential threats from within the family.

"What do you recommend?" Sal asked.

"Complete security review. New protocols, new personnel screening, new safe house rotation." His eyes found the camera. "And I want full authority over all protective arrangements going forward."

"That's a lot of authority for an outsider," Tony said, his voice carrying warning.

"That's the authority needed to keep your brother breathing." Cam didn't back down. "If you want someone who'll compromise his safety for family politics, hire someone else."

The tension dropped ten degrees in both rooms. Nico felt pride swell in his chest, watching Cam face down his family's power structure without flinching. The man had principles and the spine to defend them.

Sal was quiet for a long moment, studying him through the camera. "You're asking for significant trust."

"I'm asking for the trust your son's life depends on."

"And Vincent Torrino?"

"Should be isolated immediately. Full financial and communications audit, polygraph, the works." His expression was granite. "If he's clean, we'll know. If he's not..."

The unfinished threat hung in the air. Tony looked like he wanted to reach through the camera and strangle Cam, but Sal nodded slowly.

"Handle it," Sal said to Tony. "Quietly."

After the call ended, the cabin felt smaller, charged with tension that had nothing to do with security concerns. Cam closed the laptop with unnecessary force, his jaw tight with stress.

"That went well," Nico said.

"Your brother wants to kill me."

"Tony wants to kill everyone who makes him look bad. You just made him look very bad."

He turned to face him, and Nico could see the conflict in his expression—professional satisfaction warring with personal cost. "I may have just made an enemy inside your family."

"You may have just saved my life. Again." Nico moved closer, ignoring the way he tensed. "That thing with Torrino—you were right to push. I should have listened when you first raised concerns."

"It's not about being right. It's about?—"

"It's about you seeing things clearly when I couldn't. When my family couldn't." Nico's hand found his arm, and he felt the tremor that ran through him at the contact. "That's what partnership is. Trusting someone else's judgment when yours is compromised."

"Partnership," he repeated, like the word tasted dangerous.

"Professional partnership." Nico's thumb was tracing circles on his forearm. They both knew professional partnerships didn't usually involve touching like this. "Complete trust in each other's expertise."

"Nico..." Cam's voice was strained.

"What?"

"You're making this very difficult."

"Making what difficult?"

"Maintaining boundaries. Professional distance." Cam's eyes locked on his face. "Acting like last night didn't change everything between us."

The admission hit like a physical blow. Nico felt his pulse quicken, saw answering heat flicker in Cam's eyes before he tried to bank it.

"What if it did change things?" Nico asked quietly. "What if pretending otherwise is what's really dangerous?"

"Then we're both in trouble."

"Maybe." Nico stepped closer, close enough to see the way Cam's breathing had changed. "But maybe we're stronger together than apart. Maybe caring about each other makes us better at this, not worse."

Cam's control was visibly fraying, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I can't afford to care about you this much. Can't afford to have my judgment compromised by?—"

"By what? By wanting to keep me safe for reasons that have nothing to do with money?"

"Yes." The word came out rough, honest. "By knowing that losing you would destroy me."

The raw admission hung between them, dangerous and true. Nico felt something shift in his chest—not just attraction or professional respect, but something deeper. Recognition that this man would die for him not because it was his job, but because it was his choice.

"Then we'll have to make sure you don't lose me," Nico said quietly.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed with an urgent tone. He glanced at the screen, his expression immediately shifting to alert.

"Matt," he answered. "What do you have?"

Nico watched his face change as he listened, saw professional concern shift to something darker.

"When?" he asked. "How long has he been missing?"

Missing. Nico felt ice settle in his stomach.

"Copy. We'll maintain position until you give the all-clear." He hung up, his expression grim.

"Torrino?"

"Gone. Disappeared sometime after our call. His apartment's been cleaned out, no forwarding address." Already moving, checking weapons and communications gear. "Which means whoever hired him knows we survived the safe house hit."

"And they'll try again."

"Count on it. But this time, we'll be ready."

As he prepared their defenses, Nico found himself thinking about trust, about professional boundaries, about the way some partnerships transcended job descriptions.

About how the man protecting his life had just risked his own position in the family to keep him safe. About how professional competence had somehow become personal devotion without either of them planning it.

About how they were probably both in trouble, and how that might be exactly where they needed to be.

Some complications couldn't be avoided.

And maybe the best ones shouldn't be.