Hard to Come By

  From the explosion?

  “Emilie’s right,” Katherine said.

  Becca looked back and forth between them for a moment and finally nodded. She slipped her hand into Emilie’s and held her arm out to Katherine, and the three of them made their way toward a chain-link fence on the far side of Hard Ink, Marz right behind them.

  “I’m so sorry about your brother,” Becca said.

  “Thank you.” The words came out mechanically, Emilie’s brain still not quite processing the reality of what she’d seen, of what had happened, of the fact she’d never hold or see or touch her brother again. And, oh God, she was going to have to tell her mother—and break the woman’s heart for real this time. Heaving a shaky breath, Emilie peered up toward Becca through blowing tendrils of her hair. “I know he probably did bad things to all these guys. No one here owes him anything, but I do. I can’t forget the other thirty years of his life just because he made a lot of very bad decisions during the past few.” Images flashed through her mind’s eye—of the sheer wildness in his gaze as he choked her in her kitchen, of the unmistakable determination on his face to beat her with that bat. It all made her so tired, and so very sad. “I don’t know, maybe that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does, Emilie,” Becca said. “Everyone will understand where you’re coming from. And you tried to get him help. But you can only help someone who wants it.”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “You know,” Becca said, looking at Katherine. “You were pretty freaking amazing going out there with the guys.” She turned to Emilie. “Katherine fought with the men. She was up on the roof with them when it collapsed.”

  Emilie had to agree with Becca’s assessment. Would she have had that kind of courage in that situation? You killed that cop. True. But he hadn’t given her much of a choice.

  Katherine shrugged. “I know how to shoot and I figured they needed all the bodies they could get,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Becca chuckled. “I know how to shoot, too, but Nick wouldn’t hear the first word about me helping.”

  “Well, I’ve never been much of a listener,” Katherine said, bumping Becca’s shoulder. “And he’s not in love with me.”

  “Yeah,” Becca said, smiling. Her expression made it totally clear that Becca felt the same way about him.

  A yearning opened up inside Emilie’s chest, but it quickly crashed into the big ball of grief she felt over Manny, and that swamped her with guilt for even thinking about anything else. His loss was an ache that blotted out almost everything—her kidnapping, her injuries, the fact that she’d shot and killed another person. All of that felt distant and inconsequential in comparison to the hole in her heart.

  Shane jogged ahead to his truck, parked at an angle with the back end almost in the middle of the road. He reached into the driver’s side and apparently pushed a release on the gate, which swung inward.

  Soon, they made their way to Nick and Jeremy’s apartment. They filled up the couches and chairs, a sort of collective shock and exhaustion hanging over them. No one talked much. Jenna and Sara mirrored Emilie’s position, tucked in under the arms of their men.

  She was glad for the sisters, that their brains weren’t filled with the images of a dead sibling the way hers was. She couldn’t stop seeing the destruction the bullet had wrecked on Manny’s skull.

  Jeremy and Charlie sat huddled together on one of the couches—Jeremy with his elbows braced on his knees and his head in his hands, and Charlie with his arm around the other man’s back.

  Abruptly, Charlie grabbed one of Jeremy’s hands and pulled him to his feet, and then without a word led him around the room and down a hall. As much as Jeremy had tried to duck his head, Emilie had seen that his expression was probably a short moment away from crumpling.

  Katherine stared after Jeremy like she wanted to follow but also didn’t want to interfere. She traded a worried look with Becca, who sat beside her.

  Poor Jeremy. From what she understood, the tattoo shop and the building were primarily his. And now at least part of it had been demolished.

  Emilie’s throat clogged with tears again, and she closed her eyes and let them flow against Derek’s chest until she felt his shirt dampen. And then, miraculously, her eyelids got too heavy to lift, and she didn’t remember anything else.

  SLEEP WAS EXACTLY what Emilie needed, so Marz was only too glad to hold her against his chest and let her find some comfort and solace in him as long as she could. Nick had come in about an hour after the rest of them and laid out the big pressing question they all faced—whether or not to remain at Hard Ink. And, if they fled, where they might go.

  But they couldn’t go anywhere before the key search was completed. Disconnecting the computers at this point risked needing to start the process over from the beginning. In the craziness that had been the past two days, Marz had totally lost track of Charlie’s idea to try to acquire more powerful hardware to run the search, but it was probably just as well. Between Emilie’s abduction on Friday and the attack on Hard Ink this morning, the fates were making it pretty damn clear that they all needed to keep their heads down and not pull anybody new into this clusterfuck. So that meant they still had between twelve and eighteen hours before the search found the key to unlock the encrypted microchip they’d found in Becca’s bear.

  Given the forced cooling of their heels, Nick had told everyone to think about those two questions and plan to reconvene for a debrief and discussion in the gym at five o’clock—by which time he hoped to hear from Ike how the Ravens had voted on the question of taking on the team’s mission as their own.

  Emilie hadn’t budged once while Nick spoke, so Marz hadn’t wanted to wake her to go up to his room. Instead, he settled into the corner of the couch with Emilie tight against him and let himself pass the fuck out.

  It didn’t happen right away.

  For a long while, a horror movie played against the insides of his eyelids. The GSW to Miguel’s head. Manny’s gruesome execution. Emilie’s mourning for her brother, which had nearly ripped his heart from his own chest.

  “Marz. Hey, Marz.” Something was shaking him. Or someone. His eyes felt like they’d been glued together, and they opened blearily to find Easy standing over him.

  “We’re supposed to meet in the gym in fifteen, but I thought you two might want to grab some food first.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “Becca made a big pot of homemade chicken noodle and a bunch of rolls. They’re still warm.”

  “Thanks, E,” he said. Had he really slept for six hours straight? Almost unheard of. “Be right over.”

  Easy clapped him on the shoulder and left.

  Looking down, Marz found Emilie still asleep against him, though at some point, she’d turned over and scooted down so her head lay in his lap. The fact that he hadn’t felt her move like that spoke to just how damn tired he’d been, too.

  His gaze ran down her body—over the mint green shirt she wore, over her jeans to her bare feet. And then back up again to where her dark brown hair sprawled across his lap. And all he could think was, This is right where she belongs. With me. By my side. The two of us facing the world—good and bad—together.

  And that was the moment his heart cracked all the way open and overwhelmed him with the realization that he hadn’t just gotten involved with Emilie Garza. And he hadn’t just had mind-blowing sex with her. He’d fallen in love with her.

  He’d fallen in love for the first time in his life.

  The admission—and his acceptance of the truth of his feelings—made it temporarily harder to breathe. But then he studied her face—so beautiful and peaceful in sleep—and everything inside him calmed as if, even on a physiological level, he recognized the rightness of the two of them together.

  And that was damn hard to come by. He would know, because he’d never had it before.

  Truth be told, he never thought he would.

  “Hey, Em,” Derek said, stroking the hair off her face.
“Wake up.”

  “Hi,” she said, her voice a dry scrape.

  “Hi.” Now that he’d admitted his feelings to himself, his chest filled with a warm pressure that yearned to be set free.

  “What time is it?” she asked, pushing up on one hand.

  “Almost five. That’s why I woke you. We’re going to have a meeting to figure out what we know and where to go from here. You don’t have to go—”

  “No, I’d really like to,” she said.

  Derek nodded. “Well, then, I thought we should get some food before we do. Becca made chicken noodle soup. Think you could handle some of that?”

  Emilie peered over her shoulder into the kitchen, where a huge pot sat on the stove. “Aw, that was sweet of her. Sounds fine.”

  They crossed to the kitchen and Derek pointed Emilie to the bathroom. While she was gone, he ladled soup into bowls and grabbed them rolls and butter. He’d just gotten drinks and set everything up at the breakfast bar when Emilie returned. She stood at the edge of the room hugging herself, her hair sleek again as if she’d brushed it.

  “Come on over,” he said, watching her face.

  She was fighting back tears.

  He went to her in an instant, his leg grumbling at the fast movement, and folded her in his arms.

  “One second I was washing my hands, the next I was looking at Manny’s head again. And then I felt horrible because he was shot and killed this morning, and I spent the afternoon immediately afterward taking a nap.”

  “That nap was total self-preservation, Emilie. Your body needed to shut down. This morning was beyond traumatic for you. So, to quote one of my favorite people ever, give yourself a break.”

  That almost eked a smile out of her. “I’ll try.”

  “Come on. A little food will help.” He guided her to a bar stool and then hopped up himself. He dug in more enthusiastically than she did, but at least she got a little something into her stomach.

  When they were just about done, Charlie and Jeremy emerged from Jer’s room. In the few weeks that Marz had known Jeremy Rixey, he’d never seen the guy so emotionally trashed. Eyes bleak, shoulders fallen, his mouth in the shape of a frown.

  Marz couldn’t find any humor in the guy’s Easy Lay Carpeting Co. shirt, not when he was so visibly upset. He pushed off his stool and stopped the pair of them before they crossed to the door. “Hey, how’re you doing?” Marz asked Jer.

  He shrugged one shoulder and barely made eye contact. Damn, if the guy’s eyes weren’t red, too. “Okay.”

  Marz clasped his hand around the side of Jeremy’s neck. “We will make all this right by you, Jeremy. Your business, the building, all of it. I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s not the building,” he said, finally meeting Marz’s gaze head on. “I mean, the building sucks. I just . . . can’t help but think maybe we wouldn’t have lost so many people if Nick had had better backup than me.” He shook his head. “If I’d have reacted quicker, I wouldn’t have slid down the broken roof, and Nick wouldn’t have had to waste the time helping me that he could’ve used to save Ike’s guys.”

  Marz glanced to Charlie, and he could see how Jeremy’s self-torment was tearing the other guy up.

  “Jeremy, that was simple physics. Any of us, in that same situation, would’ve needed the same help. It’s not your fault those men died. The fault rests in one place and one place only—the men in those armored Suburbans. You fucking rose to the occasion. Despite your lack of training in this stuff, you did what needed to be done. There’s no shame in that. Only honor. And you have as much of that as any one of us. Tell me you won’t forget it.”

  Jeremy looked at him a long moment. “Okay.”

  He patted Jeremy’s cheek. “Okay. Look, go ahead over. Tell Nick we’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Yeah,” Jer said, heading toward the door again.

  Charlie looked over his shoulder and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Marz gave him a nod. Damnit, if they all didn’t hold PhDs in beating the shit out of themselves.

  Emilie turned toward him. “You really have a way with people, do you know that?”

  “I just call ’em like I see ’em,” he said, warming under her praise.

  She gave him a small smile. “Should we go over?”

  “Sure you’re done?” he asked, eyeing the remaining soup in her bowl.

  “Yeah.”

  They made quick work of cleaning up their mess, and then Marz gently captured her against the counter. “You don’t have to come to this, Emilie. I could give you the highlight reel later.”

  She shook her head. “I want to stay with you. And I want to know what’s going on. If that’s okay,” she said, ducking her chin.

  “Of course it’s okay,” he said, tilting her chin up with his fingers. “You belong here now. You’re one of us.” And I want you to be mine, he wanted to add, but he held back—for now. She had enough to deal with at the moment. “But I, uh, just want to warn you. We’ve got security cameras trained all over this building. I suspect Nick may want us to look over the footage . . .” He let the words hang there.

  “They might show Manny,” she said, hugging herself.

  Given the locations of the cameras, he could say with near certainty that they would. “They probably will,” he said.

  She seemed to think about it for a moment, and when her lip trembled, Marz’s heart broke a little for her. But then she nodded. “I can handle it.”

  “Then let’s go join the others and figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”

  IT WAS THE most subdued all-hands meeting they’d ever had, so it didn’t take much for Nick to call them to order.

  Marz studied Nick’s gait, the dark hollows beneath his eyes, the stiffness in the way he turned his head, and immediately knew his friend was hurting.

  “All right, everyone,” Nick said, his jaw ticking as he surveyed the group. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, so let’s dig in. And let me start off with an apology.”

  What the hell for? Marz frowned and looked to his other teammates, who seemed equally confused.

  “I invited you here. And I offered you safe haven,” he said, looking particularly at the women. He braced his hands on his hips and shook his head. “And I know I let you all down today—”

  “How do you figure?” Jeremy asked, jumping to his feet among a low murmur of similar sentiments. Eileen paced around him and whimpered.

  Nick tilted his head and held out his hands like he thought the answer was obvious. “I probably failed you most of all—”

  “Jesus, Nick,” Jeremy bit out as he clawed his fingers through his hair. “You haven’t failed me. You have never failed me.” He waved a hand around at the rest of the group, leaning against the wall, sprawled on the floor, and sitting on folding chairs. “And you haven’t failed anyone else here, either.”

  Nick pressed his mouth into a thin line and shook his head. “I brought my war to your fucking doorstep, Jeremy. That’s pretty easy to see. And now your livelihood’s been impacted. Your life is in danger.” He pointed to his sister. “Kat’s life is in danger. And not a single person in this room signed on for this.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit,” Beckett said, arms crossed, feet spread wide, expression set in a hard scowl. “This is exactly what the five of us signed on for. The minute you told us you thought Charlie’s kidnapping somehow connected to what went down in Afghanistan, each of us came here knowing that, if it was true, things were likely to get worse before they got better.”

  “I totally agree,” Marz said, sitting next to Emilie in a folding chair. He hated to see Nick beat himself up this way, but it was clear that the events of the day had played a number on all of their heads.

  “Absolutely,” Shane said, giving his best friend a hard stare around Sara, who sat on his lap. Arm around Jenna, Easy nodded.

  “I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you,” Jenna said. “For all of you.”

  “Neither
would I,” said Charlie, his voice gruff.

  “Me neither,” Emilie said in a low voice. “You saved me, too.”

  Her chin trembling, Becca stared at her hands folded in her lap. “We are a whole lot like the Island of Misfit Toys,” she said, sending a low chuckle around the room. “But we are here and we are safe because of you. Because you opened your home to us.” She stood next to Jeremy and grabbed his hand. “Because you fought for each of us. Because you listened to a stranger’s plea for help, and as a result of that saved a whole lot of people who might never have gotten the help they needed.” She walked up to Nick and took his hands in hers. “No one here expected a guarantee of complete safety. Not given the circumstances that brought us together. And no one here is any less committed to seeing this through because today happened. So be pissed about it or punch something or scream or rant, but don’t feel guilty, Nick. What happened was not your fault.”

  Marz hugged Emilie in against his side. Damn, if he wasn’t feeling a tickle at the corners of his eyes.

  “You know I love any chance to call you on your bullshit,” Katherine said, rubbing her palms over her thighs. “So I’m going to have to side with Rambo over there on this one. I’ve obviously been playing ten kinds of catch-up on what’s going on around here, but I didn’t see a single thing today that you did to fail anyone. They had a rocket launcher, Nick. I mean, seriously. Is there even any way to defend against such a thing? As far as I can see, there’s nothing you could’ve done to prepare for that. So, pull it together, bro, and help us figure out where we go from here.” The expression on her face was much softer than the words, especially when she winked at him.

  Yeah, she was a Rixey, all right. Marz smiled and nodded.

  “Shit, okay,” Nick said, blowing out a long breath. Becca pushed onto tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, then turned toward where she’d been sitting. But Nick grabbed her and hugged her back in against his front. “Stay here with me, sunshine?” She nodded.

  Before, the couple’s closeness would’ve set off an ache inside Marz’s chest. Sure, he would’ve grinned through it or razzed them or made a joke, but it would’ve eaten at him all the same. He looked at Emilie, and found her looking up at him. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.