Hard to Let Go

He finally turned to look at her, and his eyes were totally unshuttered. For once, the wariness was gone and there was just Beckett, open and vulnerable. “I’ve been asleep, Kat. For so long I almost don’t remember ever being awake. And now . . .”

  She placed her hands on his, still rubbing at his chest. His heart thudded out a fast rhythm. “Now what?”

  “I’m all pins and needles. And I can barely breathe,” he said, voice tight.

  “Aw, Beckett.” She pushed onto her tiptoes and wrapped him in her arms. Her heart broke for him. It really did. How horrible to be so disconnected from your emotions that experiencing them caused such pain. And her heart broke a little for her, too.

  Because she liked Beckett. A lot. The kinda like that could maybe grow into something more, despite the crazy way they’d met and the fact that he, well, totally drove her crazy. And a small part of her brain whispered that he might just be too damaged to let go of the anger and the past and the numbness he’d embraced for so long.

  But she wasn’t counting him out yet. Not when he was clearly trying. Not when he was opening up. Not when he held her so tight it was like she was an anchor in his storm.

  “Just hold onto me, Beckett. I’ll do everything I can to get you through. Pins and needles always goes away, remember? It always goes away.”

  He held her for a long moment, then pressed a kiss against her temple. “I’ll try to remember,” he whispered. Finally, Beckett pulled away. And, as she watched, he shuttered himself right back up again. His eyes went hard. Expression went carefully blank. Jaw got tight. “Now please go pack, Kat. Marz will be coming back for us before too long, and I want to be ready to go.”

  Chapter 19

  At ten minutes to five, when Beckett still hadn’t heard from Marz, he called Nick’s cell phone. If he couldn’t be at Hard Ink for the second call with Seneka, he could at least listen in on speaker phone.

  “Funny you called,” Nick said. “Charlie just saw that Marz dialed into the chat himself, though he set it up so Seneka won’t be able to see him there. It’s good that you both hear what happens firsthand.”

  Beckett dropped onto Kat’s soft, brown leather couch and nodded. “My thinking exactly. Anything new since we left?”

  “Charlie confirmed that none of Seneka’s work numbers have had any discernible contact with Kaine or the bank, and he hacked into the guy’s Verizon account to check his cell phone. Seneka looks clean. We also scoped out the possible meeting locations, and you were right. The parking garage where we ambushed the Church Gang has all kinds of strategic advantages over the other choices. We’re going with that.”

  “Good,” Beckett said. That location had worked very well for them a few weeks back when they’d intercepted the gang’s gun deal and walked away with the guns and the cash. It was one of the losses that led to Church’s demise.

  “How are, uh, things there?” Nick asked.

  “She’s packed. We’re just waiting on Marz,” he said, glancing at the LED clock on Kat’s cable box: 4:54 P.M. No way Beckett was mentioning any other “things” here, like how he’d nearly lost his shit while talking to Kat. Thus, why he loathed talking. Although, oddly, talking to her tended to make things better, tended to make it easier to breathe. At least for a little while.

  Voices sounded in the background, and then there was a shuffling noise.

  “You’re on speaker, Beckett,” came Charlie’s voice. “Put your phone on mute so nothing comes through.” Beckett changed the setting, placed the phone on the coffee table, and stared at the thing like doing so might transport him back to the gym.

  Kat walked into the living room a minute later, dressed in a pair of jeans and a creamy V-neck shirt that hugged every one of her curves. She’d just taken a quick shower since she’d woken up late this morning, and the scent of rich vanilla trailed after her. “What’s going on?”

  Pointing to his phone, Beckett said, “Called into the follow-up with Seneka. It’s on mute.”

  “Mr. Seneka,” Nick said, his modulated voice sounding distant but clear. “Thank you for keeping our appointment.”

  “I’ve had some time to confirm parts of what you told me, so I now want to get to the bottom of this almost as much as you do,” the older man said, voice gruff.

  “Do you have what I requested?” Nick asked, sounding unruffled. But no doubt Nick’s thoughts had gone the same place as Beckett’s—wondering what exactly Seneka had learned.

  “How do I get the personnel list to you?” Seneka asked.

  “Send an e-mail to yourself with the attachment.” There was a long pause, and Kat joined Beckett on the couch. They exchanged a glance, and Beckett saw the tension he felt in his gut reflected on her beautiful face. A moment later Nick said, “And the other evidence?”

  Beckett sat forward, anticipation making his heart beat faster. Nick had demanded that Seneka provide evidence identifying and definitively incriminating whoever GW or WCE was.

  “I have good news and bad news on that front,” came Seneka’s voice. “I’ll start with the bad. What I have isn’t definitive. Yet. I’m still working on that.” Beckett’s gut tightened in disappointment and suspicion. If he asked for more time and stretched this thing out, that would be a major red flag. “And I wasn’t able to find anything at all on the initials or acronym WCE. But I do believe I’ve narrowed down who GW is.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Gene Washington and Gordon Wexler are security specialists who both have a history with Kaine. Back when the general wasn’t riding a desk, Wexler and Washington served on the same A-team as Kaine. Wexler joined Kaine’s team two years after Kaine did, when he wasn’t yet a C.O., so they came up together. By the time Washington joined the team, Kaine was a colonel. So Washington cut his SF teeth under Kaine.”

  One man was a contemporary of Kaine’s, and for the other, Kaine was his mentor. Both relationships could create strong bonds of loyalty.

  “Their personnel files prove these connections. For now, I can provide you with that much. Sending the e-mail now.” Some of the stress bled out of Beckett’s muscles. One of the skills you honed as a special warfare operative was how to read people, how to decide if they and any information they provided were reliable. All Beckett’s instincts said Seneka was on the up-and-up.

  “It’s a start. Give me just a minute,” Nick said. More than a start, it provided information they didn’t otherwise have and some understanding of how the dirty op Merritt had been investigating had likely come together. Another pause dragged out. The team was probably reviewing the e-mailed documents. Marz had to be going crazy not being there, because Beckett sure was.

  “Have I passed your test and earned an in-person meeting?” Seneka asked. “Because I need to get a grip on this situation before the congressional investigation gets wind of it. That happens, and I’m fucked four ways from Sunday.”

  Finally, Nick said. “Yes, I will meet with you.” Nick laid out the details. They were going to do this a few hours after Emilie’s brother’s funeral tomorrow, late enough that they’d have time to get people in place well before the meeting. So by this time tomorrow night they might finally have a solid, nailed-down list of who was to blame for everything that had happened to them, their team, and the colonel.

  “That works for me. I’ll bring anything else I uncover in the interim. But I have just one question.”

  “Which is?” Nick asked.

  “When you say ‘you’ will meet with me, I’m wondering whether that means I’m meeting with—” Seneka paused for a moment, and there was a shuffling of paper. “—Edward Cantrell, Derek DiMarzio, Shane McCallan, Beckett Murda, or Nicholas Rixey.”

  Holy fucking shit.

  Still staring at the phone, Beckett shot to his feet. He would’ve placed money that each of his teammates had just had the same thought. Kat put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and scared. Beckett held out a hand, and Kat clutched it and rose to stand at his side.

  “Why would the meeting be with a
ny of those people?” Nick asked, a note of strain in his voice.

  “Come on now, son,” Seneka said. “Those men are the surviving members of an ambushed SF unit. I’m betting it’s the same one you mentioned this morning. I was also able to learn that one of those five men lives in Baltimore. So I’m pretty confident in saying that one plus one equals two. You didn’t think I’d go into this without learning who I was dealing with, did you?”

  Well, it was a goddamned good thing Seneka seemed to be an ally, since he now knew who they were and that they had all kinds of incriminating information on his company.

  “Nicholas, I wouldn’t—”

  “It’s Nick,” came Nick’s voice. Which, Jesus, just confirmed it. Beckett hoped that gamble paid off. “You can turn off the voice modulation.” Nick’s next words came through in his normal voice. “I didn’t go into this knowing what to think about you at all.”

  “Fair enough. If I were in your situation, I wouldn’t have either. But none of this works from this moment forward if we can’t find a way to trust each other.”

  “Agreed,” Nick said. “Well, I’ll start with removing this, since I assume you can find my picture if you found my name. And, as a good faith gesture on my end, I can let you know on authority of a confirmed source that the congressional investigation does not yet have any idea about these activities. You stay on the up-and-up with me and I’m more than happy to keep it that way.”

  “I appreciate that intel,” Seneka said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at two, then, Nick.”

  “We’re clear,” came Charlie’s voice.

  Beckett swiped the phone off the table and took it off mute. “Well, damn. Our junk’s out there swinging in the wind now, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “It was bound to happen. Still damn jarring as hell. More importantly, though, allying with John Seneka is going to be the key to all of this. I feel it.”

  “I sure hope so,” Beckett said. “Because if we’re wrong, shit’s gonna go to hell—and fast.”

  BECKETT’S CELL PHONE came to life in his hand a few minutes later, the screen flashing an incoming call from Marz. Beckett was so wired that he nearly fumbled the damn thing. “About damn time,” Beckett said by way of answering. He set it to Speaker so Kat could hear what Marz had to say.

  “I missed you too, asshole,” Marz said, his normally cheerful voice somewhat dampened.

  “What are you thinking about that call?” Beckett asked.

  “Our identity was going to come out sooner or later, so I’m making peace with the fact that it happened now. It still feels a lot like the guy reached his fist through the phone and sucker punched me, though.”

  Beckett nodded and sighed. “I’m with ya there. Now that the call’s done, you getting on the road?”

  “Uh, that’s what I was calling about. Emilie’s mom is down with a migraine. No way we can travel tonight,” Marz said. “Things are pretty rough here. I already let Nick know.”

  “Oh, no,” Kat whispered, her brow furrowing.

  Frustration at being separated from the team sat like a boulder on Beckett’s chest, but he felt nothing but sympathy for Emilie and her mom. Emilie had been a real trooper the past few days, helping out everyone around her when no one would’ve blamed her for curling up in bed and throwing the covers over her head. You had to respect that. And who could blame a mother for being so distraught over her son’s death that she fell ill? Certainly not Beckett. Most of his life he would’ve given his right leg to have someone care about him half that much.

  The room went on a tilt-a-whirl around Beckett at the thought. Given his right leg . . . Exactly what Marz had done. Jesus. His chest went tight and he gasped for breath.

  “Are you all right?” Kat said, grasping his arm.

  “B?” Marz said. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I heard. Was just thinking that you . . . uh, gave your right leg for me,” Beckett choked out, lowering himself onto the couch. Kat settled next to him, and though Beckett couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze when his head was caught in the midst of all this churn, he could feel concern radiating off of her.

  Marz chuffed out half a laugh. “Uh, this is not news, is it?”

  Beckett shook his head. “No, right. But it just smacked me in the face. You sacrificed yourself for me, because . . .” He scrambled for just the right words.

  “Because I love your grumpy ass. And you love all my epic awesomeness.”

  “Yeah,” Beckett said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. “No one’s ever done something like that for me, Derek. Until you, no one else ever cared if I lived or died.” Beckett was acutely aware of Kat’s presence for this conversation even before she scooted closer, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and laid her head against his bicep.

  There was a long pause, and then Marz said, “I love yoooou, maaan!”

  “And you wonder why I hate talking.” Beckett pushed End on a huff.

  His phone buzzed a half minute later. LOL Pick you up at 7:45 A.M. Let you know if anything changes here.

  Roger, Beckett replied.

  Also: I love you, man!

  Fucker. Beckett tossed his cell to the coffee table. And then he got hot in the face. Because Kat had witnessed that whole little scene. Like she needed to see him lose it one more time.

  Kat pushed him so that his back rested against the couch as she straddled his lap. She cupped his face in her hands and got up close, her breasts against his chest, her forehead nearly touching his, her soft hair forming a curtain around them. Beckett’s heart beat like a bass drum. She kissed him.

  A soft brush of skin on skin at first, and then a nibbling tug at his bottom lip that made his cock jerk where she sat on him. “I care if you live or die, Beckett. I care, a lot.”

  He swallowed hard as that odd, warm pressure filled his chest again. “Why?” he asked, meeting those too-perceptive jade eyes.

  “You really need me to spell it out?”

  He really fucking did. Beckett nodded.

  Kat kissed him. “Because you’re loyal, protective, and taking time away from your life to help my brother.” Another kiss. Beckett’s hands grasped her hips. “Because you’re smart, strategic, and a genius when it comes to gadgets and fixing things.” Kiss. “Because you keep trying to get Cy to let you pet him.” Kiss. “Because you’re gorgeous and sexy as hell.” Longer kiss. “And you fuck like a god.” Much longer, wetter, hotter kiss. “And because you called me ‘Angel.’ ”

  Chest full, throat tight, heart pounding, Beckett kissed Kat on a groan, his thoughts struggling to process—to believe—that someone as beautiful and bright and together as Katherine Rixey could see all that in him when he couldn’t see most of it in himself. Hell, not even his parents had seen it.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth, and Beckett was hard and aching and overwhelmed and more in need of being wanted than at any other moment in his life. And Kat gave that to him in spades. With her kisses. With her touch. With her desperate moans and grinding hips and pleading words. “I want you, Beckett. If we’re here for the night, I want you in me as deep and as hard and as often as you can. For just tonight, I don’t want to think about anything else but you.”

  “Jesus, Kat,” he rasped, banding his arms around her back and pinning her to him. He devoured her mouth, sucked on her neck, bit the soft tendon that led to her shoulder. “I want that, too. But not here.”

  “Why?” she moaned as his hands kneaded at her ass.

  It was the silver lining in the cloud of being stuck here overnight. “Because for once, I finally have you all to myself with no need to hurry. I’m taking you to your bed, stripping you down, and spreading you out just like I said I would.” Beckett rose from the couch with her legs hooked around his waist and her arms holding onto his neck. He carried her from the living room into her bedroom, a warm, sexy space decorated in purple and gold with a large wooden bed in the center.
The room sat at the corner of the building, creating two walls of windows that seemed to welcome the city inside.

  With a last hungry kiss, Beckett slid Kat down his body until her feet touched the ground. She gave him the sexiest damn smile he’d ever seen. “I’m not sorry we’re stuck here together.”

  Beckett winked. “Neither am I.” He crossed to the shorter wall of windows, scanned his gaze over the row houses below, and lowered the blinds.

  Kat chuckled. “We’re on the eighth floor.”

  “Uh-huh. And I’m a greedy bastard. I don’t even want to share you with the sun.”

  Her head tilted to the side and her smile turned sweet and soft.

  At the longer window, Beckett repeated his survey, his gaze running over the windows of the hotel across the street. Down below, traffic rolled by in an endless rotation of cars and trucks and buses. He shut the blind and closed the world out.

  The room got darker, more intimate, and Beckett turned to Kat and gave her a long look from bare feet to sexy curves to tousled chocolate-brown hair. He stalked toward her, taking his time, looking his fill. And what he saw? Was a woman who was a perfect fucking fit for him. Soft and comforting when he needed solace. Tough as nails when he needed strength. Strong-willed and independent-minded when he needed to be called on his shit. A woman who thought his scars were beautiful and wanted to help him fight his demons. A woman who understood sacrifice and loyalty and doing whatever it took to protect the people you loved.

  A woman worth fighting for—even if what he was fighting was himself.

  Beckett took Kat into his arms and kissed her deeply, their tongues swirling, their lips sucking and nibbling. The sweet taste of her made him realize, for the first time in his life, that he was fucking starving. And always had been.

  “I want your taste in my mouth, Kat. Your scent on my body, your skin all over mine,” Beckett rasped as he kissed her cheeks, her nose, her eyes. “Tonight, I want it all. With you.”

  Chapter 20

  “I want you naked,” Beckett whispered, his tongue caressing the shell of Kat’s ear. His hands went to the hem of her shirt and pushed it up, the calluses on his palms ticklish as they dragged over her rib cage and lifted off the shirt. Sucking gently on her neck, he reached behind and unclasped her bra. And then his fingers were on the button of her jeans and he was slowly, so damn slowly, tugging the denim off her hips and down her legs. Starting at the hollow at the base of her throat, Beckett’s lips blazed a trail of kisses between her breasts and over her stomach to the waistband of her red silk panties. Lowering to a knee, he gripped her hips and drew his tongue from hip bone to hip bone. And then he bit the fabric and pulled her panties down with his teeth.