Hard to Let Go

  She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, tucking it beneath her arms in a way that left the bruises exposed. “No, Beckett—”

  “I swear, if you make an excuse for me right now, I will lose my mind.” He bent down and grabbed his T-shirt. Stuffed his arms and head through the holes.

  Her expression was so damn sad it broke his heart. And he thought he’d felt pain before. Not even close. Not even close to losing something you never quite had. “I don’t have to, Beckett—”

  “Good. Don’t.” He turned for the doorknob, but his fingers were fucking wet and wouldn’t grasp the lock.

  She grabbed his arm. “Damnit, Beckett. It wasn’t you. Okay? It wasn’t you who grabbed me. You’re not the one who caused my bruises.”

  Chapter 16

  Beckett froze. His mind. His body. His heart. All of it stopped cold.

  He turned around to face her, his gaze looking over those bruises in a whole new way now. “What did you say?”

  Eyes pleading, forehead furrowed with worry, she shook her head, sending water droplets from her wet hair down the pale, lovely skin of her chest. “You weren’t the one who did this,” she said. “Not you.”

  Gently, so, so gently, he grasped her wrist and lifted her arm again. One dark fingerprint on the inside of the arm, two—no, three—on the outside. Same on the other side. A flash fire roared through his mind. “Was this a fucking Raven?” Because, who else could it be? None of the team would do this. Who did that leave?

  A fast shake of her head. More droplets rushed down her skin. “No, no. No one here.” She dropped her gaze somewhere in between them, her expression pinched, like she was in pain.

  Knock, knock.

  “Are you two having sex in there?” came Jeremy’s voice from the other side of the door.

  Kat’s shoulders sagged. “Come to my room with me?”

  Beckett was nearly numb from the whiplash of emotions he’d experienced during the past few minutes. Terror, self-loathing, soul-deep disappointment, tempered relief, anger. Always, the anger. He managed a nod and turned and opened the door.

  Jeremy pointed to the wet spots seeping through Beckett’s T-shirt. “Think you’re supposed to take the clothes off, there, big guy . . .” He frowned, his gaze ping-ponging between them as if he’d just noticed something was wrong.

  Not wanting to risk saying something he shouldn’t, Beckett stalked by Jeremy without saying a word. But that didn’t stop him from hearing the conversation that took place behind him.

  “What’s the matter?” Jeremy asked Kat.

  “Nothing,” she said, her voice not at all convincing.

  “Hey, what happened to your arm?”

  Pacing inside her dark room, Beckett didn’t hear the answer to that, and he was glad. Because if she told Jeremy before she told him, he might just lose his mind.

  A moment later she walked in, turned on the bedside lamp, and closed the door. “Mind if I take a minute to get dressed first?”

  Beckett managed a head shake, his gaze glued to her as she dried herself off, slipped on a pair of pink satiny panties, and then pulled on a pair of black cotton pajama bottoms and a form-fitting emerald green tank top. Part of him wanted to go to her and warm her air-chilled skin with his. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she explained those marks. Not until she made him believe that he wasn’t responsible for them—and understand why she hadn’t mentioned someone hurting her before.

  She whipped a brush through her hair until it lay smooth over her shoulders, the color of it almost black from the wetness. Then she walked up to him, took his hand, and guided him toward the bed.

  He pulled his hand free. “Kat—”

  “Come with me, Beckett,” she said, taking his hand again. When his feet remained planted, she looked him in the eye. “You need this. And so do I.”

  He frowned, and his feet got unstuck real quick. He didn’t exactly understand what she meant by those words, but somehow they still resonated inside him. He followed her to the bed and watched her pull down the covers then climb to the middle. She turned to face him.

  Beckett sat on the edge. Upright. Rigid. Stressed the fuck out.

  Kat slipped in behind him, her knees around his hips, her arms around his chest. She laid her head on his upper back. “I’m sorry I let you think for even a second that you’d hurt me.” Her voice was soft and sad. “I didn’t mean to. I was just caught off guard.”

  Grasping one of her hands, he pressed it more firmly to his chest. “I need to know, Kat,” he finally said.

  She turned her head so her chin rested on his shoulder. “It was an ex-boyfriend. Who has been rather intent that we get back together.” She heaved a weary breath.

  Beckett turned within the circle of her arms to face her, and her hands slipped away, coming to rest in her lap. “Cole,” he said, her words flooding back to him. I should almost thank Cole for jump— Realization smacked Beckett between the eyes. “He jumped you?”

  She ducked her chin. “In the parking garage of my building. Came up behind me when I was going to unlock my car door. My hands were full, so I didn’t even manage to react at first. He pinned me to the wall by my car. I got him to let me go by promising I’d meet him that night to talk.”

  He was gonna kill this guy. Whoever he was. Wherever he was. He was already dead and he didn’t even know it. “When?”

  “Friday morning.”

  Aw, hell. That’s why she came here. To get away from this asshole. And then what happened? First, Beckett pulled a gun on her. Second, she fell down the rabbit hole of their clusterfuck of a mission. “Shit,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  His gaze dragged over her, taking in the downward cast of her eyes, her rounded shoulders, how tightly she clenched her hands together. Get out of your own head, Murda. This isn’t about you. Right. Releasing a deep breath, he took one of her hands between both of his. “Was that the only time?” When she didn’t answer right away, Beckett arched an eyebrow, and she must’ve seen on his face that he wasn’t going to let it go at that.

  “It was the most obviously physical he’s ever gotten. One time he bumped into me in a bar and said it was an accident. But he did it so hard he nearly knocked me down. Another time, he came up behind me in a restaurant and put his arm around my neck like he was hugging me, but he squeezed enough that it hurt. He would do things like that—show up places where I was. It was always possible, since we ran in the same circles, but sometimes it just seemed too coincidental.”

  “You tell anyone about this? Nick? Jeremy?” Beckett asked, though in his gut he knew the answer. He could see it on her beautiful face.

  She shook her head. “Here’s the thing, Beckett. He’s a lawyer in another division at Justice. Which means we share an office, colleagues, friends. Shit like this happens to women sometimes, and you have to make a judgment call. Do you report the person and cause a big thing that everyone will remember forever, instead of remembering you primarily for the work you do? Or do you let it go, brush it off, and hope it goes away? Cole is nothing if not image-conscious, so, for a long time, I was betting on him cutting it out before he either embarrassed himself or pushed me too far.”

  He got what she was saying. He really did. Didn’t mean he liked it one damn bit, though. He stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “And where does him jumping you in the garage of your home fall on that spectrum for you?”

  Kat shrugged. “I filed for a temporary protective order before I left D.C. It finally got served today.”

  Beckett made sure to gentle his voice. “What about pressing charges?”

  “I hadn’t decided about that yet. Part of why I came here.”

  A thought struck him, and it dropped a rock into his stomach. “Would he follow you here?”

  “No,” she said, frowning. “I’m not sure if I ever even mentioned that Nick and Jeremy lived in Baltimore. And he won’t violate the restraining order. He’s smart enough to know the consequences aren
’t worth it.”

  His gut wasn’t nearly as certain as she seemed to be. From the little she’d described, the prick seemed to have all the makings of a stalker, right down to having a high-powered job he believed would protect him from the consequences of his own actions.

  Beckett sighed. The conversation had chased away the terror and guilt he’d felt when he believed himself responsible, leaving him feeling even more drained than he had after talking to Emilie. But this seemed like the perfect time to implement something she told him he had to do—stop stuffing it down when something made him angry or caused him disappointment. He heaved a deep breath. “I have to say something.”

  Kat lifted her eyes to him, like she knew what was coming. He didn’t like the sadness on her face one bit.

  “Come here,” he said, pulling her into his lap. She curled into his chest, and it was the sweetest fucking thing. Sweet enough that he second-guessed himself on expressing his feelings. Easy to do since he really didn’t want to do it anyway. But he couldn’t. He’d promised Emilie he’d try and that he would report back with at least one example of when he’d done it. For fuck’s sake. Stroking Kat’s hair, he sighed and let the words fly. “I’m mad at you for not telling me about this, Kat. Maybe I don’t have a right to be mad—”

  “You do, Beckett.” She pushed off his chest enough to meet his gaze. “You asked me why it freaked me out when you grabbed my arm. And you asked me about Cole. I had plenty of opportunities to tell you what was going on.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Because, at the time, I didn’t really know what we were—if anything. I didn’t even think we liked each other.”

  Beckett frowned, but he couldn’t deny that her words made a certain kind of sense. “Then why didn’t you at least tell Nick that you might be in trouble?”

  Her gaze drifted down, and she drew an invisible design on his T-shirt with her finger. It tickled his skin beneath, but he missed her eyes. “Because I wasn’t here for five minutes when it became clear something was going on. Remember? I’d just gotten here when I ran into you in the stairwell, and Nick was about to walk out the door to go to Emilie’s house. After you and the others left for Annapolis, I spent the day watching Nick and Jeremy disguise the building to mitigate against a possible attack.” She shook her head and dropped her hand. “My problems seemed . . . really minor compared to all that. I figured knowing that some asshole had gotten handsy with me was the last thing Nick needed to be dealing with. And I’d filed for the restraining order . . .” She shrugged.

  That was totally Kat. In the time he’d known her, she’d risked her life and her career for her brother and his friends. It didn’t surprise him to hear she’d put what Nick needed in front of herself. He dragged his fingertips down her arm, just barely caressing the marks on her skin. “Does it hurt?”

  Finally, she looked at him. “Only if I bump it.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aw, Angel.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her in tight. “I’m sorry, too.”

  A fast shake of her head against his. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “Yeah, I do. I totally flipped out on you. Again.” Beckett sighed. “Clearly, one session with Emilie isn’t gonna do the job, huh?”

  Hands holding the back of his neck, she pulled away and met his gaze. “How’d that go?”

  Beckett gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Eh. It sucked ass.”

  Kat smiled and her eyes brightened.

  And, God, how he loved putting a smile on this woman’s face.

  “I’m proud of you.” Her fingers caressed his hair.

  Man, hearing her say that lit him up inside, too. “Yeah?”

  She nodded, and then she yawned until her eyes watered.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said. Given that they were both up in the middle of the night, neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before.

  “Stay with me?”

  That sounded like fucking heaven. “Sure,” he said.

  She slipped into the middle of the bed as Beckett untied his boots and toed them off. Next went his shirt. “I usually sleep naked. That a problem?” he asked.

  Behind him, Kat chuckled. “I can’t imagine any woman in her right mind finding that to be a problem.”

  He grinned over his shoulder. “I don’t care what any other woman thinks.”

  She propped her head up on her hand, a big smile on her face. “Well, I don’t mind you naked, Beckett. Not at all.”

  Chuckling, he lost the jeans and climbed in next to her. Jesus, the fact that he could feel humor after how bad he’d felt in the bathroom not long before was a minor miracle.

  “What’s the tattoo on your back say?” she asked.

  He sat back up enough for her to see it. “The way you’re reading it right now, it says ‘Strength.’ But it’s an ambigram. If you read it upside down it says ‘Struggle.’ ”

  Pushing up onto her knees, she craned her neck. “Oh, my God. That is so cool.” She traced her fingers over the letters, sending heat into his blood. Sitting back, her gaze scanned over his shoulder. “And what’s this one about?”

  Beckett glanced down at his left shoulder to where a series of black and silver circles and slashing lines covered his skin in a tribal tattoo. “It’s kind of like a piece of armor.”

  “I see that,” she said, her fingers teasing over his skin. Down his chest, his stomach, his hip. Against his belly, his cock hardened. “And these?” Her fingers stroked at the marks on his hip.

  His gut clenched, but he was done holding back. Or, at least, he was gonna try to be better about it. He heaved a deep breath. “One mark for each life I know I’ve taken. I’m missing four from the day we rescued Emilie from the Church Gang’s storage facility.”

  She stared at him a long moment, long enough that he was sure the information had bothered her. And why wouldn’t it? She dragged her fingers over the hash marks. “Your body is so beautiful, Beckett.”

  If she’d have flipped him over her back again, it would’ve surprised him less. How the hell had she come to that conclusion given what she was touching? He shook his head. “No.”

  Nodding, she ran her fingers through the hair that trailed from his chest to his groin. His cock twitched at the proximity of her touch. “To me, it is.”

  A knot lodged in his throat. “I’m all beat to hell. Scars everywhere.” He gestured to the mess around his eye.

  “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, and then she planted a hand on his chest, gave him a strong push backward until he reclined to the pillow, and bent over his body, her hair both cool and ticklish against his stomach.

  Taking his cock in her grip, she bathed the whole length with her tongue. Beckett groaned as his head fell back to the pillow. She took her time licking and stroking him, like she was trying to learn the contour of his body there. Good as it felt, Beckett’s brain refused to relax into the pleasure she gave him. She’d been hurt. She was upset. He’d just said he was mad at her.

  He shouldn’t let her do this right now.

  “Kat—”

  She sucked him in deep, deep, deeper until his head hit her throat. And then she pushed herself down a little deeper still.

  “Oh, fuck,” Beckett groaned, his hand going to her hair.

  Slowly, she withdrew, sucking hard on his cock the whole way up. Giving him a small smile, she pushed onto her knees and removed her tank top, baring her small, beautiful breasts to him. And then she crawled down the bed, pushing the covers away to give herself more room, and settled on her knees between his legs.

  “Kat. You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.” She took him in hand again and licked him with the flat of her tongue, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time.

  It was sexy as fuck. Every muscle in his body strained toward her as she sucked him deep again and held him there, luring his hands into her hair.

  “Jesus . . .
Kat . . .”

  She pulled back off of him and heaved a deep breath, and then she was absolutely relentless. Sucking him deep. Holding him there. Moaning in approval when he lifted his hips or guided her head.

  He was a goner way before he wanted to be.

  “Fuck, Kat, gonna come.”

  With his cock in her mouth, she looked up his body and met his gaze. And nodded. She sucked him hard and fast like she wanted him to come. His release shattered him. His vision went fuzzy. His muscles went taut. His heart beat so fast it was hard to breathe.

  When his body finally calmed, Kat crawled up the bed, pulling the cover behind her, and fit herself in tight against his side. She laid her head on his shoulder and draped her arm across his chest. And sighed like she’d never been more content in her life.

  “What about you, Angel?”

  Shifting her head, she smiled up at him. “That was all for you, Beckett. Can you reach the light?”

  Without having to stretch too much, he was able to turn off the bedside lamp. Darkness cloaked the windowless room, making it so that all Beckett knew was what he could feel and smell and touch.

  Making it so his whole world was Kat.

  Chapter 17

  When Kat woke up, she was all alone. Stretching her hands out on both sides of her, all she felt was cool, empty sheets. She reached out for the lamp in the darkness, and the light confirmed it. Beckett was gone.

  What time was it, anyway?

  Aw, crap. Her cell phone was all the way over on the dresser. She tugged on the tank top she’d never put back on last night and pushed out of bed. The LED screen on her smartphone read 7:25 A.M.

  Where had Beckett gone? And why? And when? If the coolness of the sheets was any indication, he hadn’t been here for a long while.

  Could the guys be hacking into John Seneka’s e-mail already? The question lit a fire under her butt, and Kat threw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Beckett knowing the truth about her bruises still didn’t mean she thought telling Nick was a good idea. At least not while all of this craziness was going on. And now, the restraining order was in effect anyway. She pulled a brush through her hair, then separated it into pieces and put it in a side braid. A little makeup and she was done and out the door.