Hard to Let Go

by Laura Kaye

  “Very likely,” Marz said, nodding. “Charlie found something else, too.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said in a quiet voice. He sat forward and grabbed a sheet of paper off the desk, using his uninjured hand. “I hacked into the Singapore bank again.” Expressions of surprise went up around the room. Kat had known Charlie was good, but she clearly hadn’t realized just how good he was. She supposed it should’ve been weird that her first reaction to the news of his illegal activity was to be impressed instead of outraged. Being neck deep in this whole situation had shifted her perspective. “Wasn’t as easy as last time because there were levels of security and detection that weren’t there a month ago. But I managed to stay in long enough to confirm this.” He handed the paper to Nick.

  “Sonofabitch,” Nick said, eyes glued to the sheet. “Kaine has a bank account there, too. Only his is worth quite a bit more.”

  “Well,” Charlie said, “he’s also had more than a year’s additional time to accrue principle and interest, now, hasn’t he.” It wasn’t a question, and Kat wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Charlie radiate anger the way he did just then. Not that she blamed him.

  “No other way to read that, then,” Marz said, pointing at the sheet, “other than Kaine being on the take.”

  “Find anything else in the documents I gave you?” Kat asked. She’d nearly devoured the turkey sandwich she’d made. Brushing bread crumbs off her fingers, she set her empty plate on the floor beneath her chair.

  Charlie nodded. “Since Kaine was kind enough to call Becca using his cell phone, we were able to search for that number in the phone call log file. Numerous instances of calls between the now-defunct extension at Seneka and Kaine’s cell. None since, though, which is . . . so not helpful.” He shrugged. The news added more credence to Kat’s belief that she might’ve done the wrong thing but for the right reason.

  “Well, think about it, though,” Beckett said, rubbing his jaw. “If they thought they’d been compromised enough to take that extension out of service, they could’ve decided that using things like personal cell phones was way too risky, too. Especially since calls to Chapman go through a switchboard, so you can only trace them so far.”

  “Who knows how many of the calls between Seneka and Chapman involved Kaine and this situation,” Nick said, nodding at Beckett.

  Marz nodded. “Seems to me that we’ve got the evidence we need to confront Seneka, and I might’ve found the perfect way to do it.”

  Nick shifted feet, and Kat didn’t miss the small wince that flashed across his face. Her gaze went right to his hip, which she couldn’t see under his jeans and black T-shirt, of course. But it made her realize she hadn’t once asked how his back was feeling since she’d arrived at Hard Ink. During the ambush that led to this whole crazy situation, he’d been shot in the back twice, resulting in a fractured pelvis, perforated bowel, and lingering nerve damage. Sometimes it bothered him enough that he had a small limp—nowhere as pronounced as Beckett’s, but enough to be noticeable.

  Nick heaved a breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “Marz, have you by any chance looked to see if there are any calls directly between Kaine or Merritt and John Seneka’s direct extension?”

  “No,” Marz said. “But that would be easy enough to do.” He turned his attention to the computer for a few minutes, his hands clacking against the keyboard every so often, then shook his head. “Not a one. What’re you thinking, hoss?”

  Nick frowned, then his gaze cut to Kat. “Is John Seneka aware of your office’s investigation into his company?”

  “Yes,” she said, wondering where Nick was going with his question. “He doesn’t know the full scope of the investigation, but our work is part of an official congressional inquiry into a whole host of issues with Seneka. As far as I know, though, Mr. Seneka’s been at least somewhat cooperative. He even provided some of the materials in our files voluntarily.”

  “I guess I’m just wondering how high up within Seneka these activities go,” Nick said, his hand pressing almost absentmindedly against his lower back.

  Kat looked around for an empty folding chair, but with pretty much everyone here, there were none nearby. Without a word, she got up, grabbed her chair, and carried it over to him, placing it backward in front of him. “Sit.” She gave him a look, but didn’t wait to debate it with him, then she went and stood by Beckett, who made her take his seat.

  As Nick straddled the folding chair the way he always did, Becca threw Kat a look of appreciation, then moved behind Nick and placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “That’s an interesting question, Nick,” Beckett said, looking around at everyone. “Equally interesting is the question of exactly who Frank was working for. No way he took this op on by himself.”

  Nick nodded. “I was thinking about that, too. If we could find who that person is, we’d presumably have another ally in all this.”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye out for any information about who Merritt might’ve been reporting to or working with in the documents,” Marz said. “So far, nothing.”

  “Where does all this leave us, then?” Nick asked, his voice tired.

  Everyone traded looks.

  Finally, Marz said, “We could drag this out as long as it takes to read through everything, but I don’t think we have that kind of time with the Ravens.” Nick nodded, and agreements rose up from the men. “I think we have enough to confront Seneka. And our bargaining chip is the twelve million dollars. Today’s meeting with Kaine proves they’re still after it, so maybe that gives us some leverage. And, before you ask, I have an idea how to make first contact with Mr. Seneka himself, thanks to Kat’s records.”

  Kat’s gaze cut to Marz’s. He winked at her. “What did you find?”

  “John Seneka very helpfully has a personal zmail account. And Charlie and I have figured out how to hack it, take it over, and force a z-video chat with him the next time he logs in.”

  Once again Kat’s reaction wasn’t what she thought it should be. Instead of being aghast like she might’ve been a week ago, she was impressed by Marz and Charlie’s evil genius.

  “Shit, really?” Shane said, a hint of a grin playing around his handsome mouth.

  “How do you know you can do it?” Easy asked, his expression just shy of hopeful.

  “Oh,” Marz said, grinning at Charlie, whose face lightened for maybe the first time during the whole conversation. “Because we hacked in about an hour ago. Seneka definitely checks that account daily, though usually in the morning, if the time stamps on his replies are any indication. Which means we can a hundred percent confront him tomorrow. And do it on our own terms.”

  BECKETT WAS A wrung-out mess. He’d just spent the past hour talking to Emilie, and it was maybe more than he’d talked at one time in his whole life. He couldn’t exactly say he felt good, and maybe not even better, but he could say that he was a little proud of himself for facing his past. Didn’t matter that dealing with that shit was as comfortable as swallowing crushed glass, because choking it down was the only way he’d have a chance at a future.

  At least, a future that he really, truly wanted.

  One where he wasn’t alone. One where he wasn’t angry. One where he wasn’t wasting the time he might have left on this earth—time his seven fallen teammates no longer had.

  Jogging down the stairs from the third-floor apartment, Beckett headed to the gym. No matter how trashed he felt, he had one more conversation that absolutely had to happen tonight.

  With Nick. About Kat.

  Beckett had seen the all-knowing looks on Marz’s and Jeremy’s faces when he and Kat joined the all-hands’ meeting earlier in the evening. If he didn’t go to Nick soon, the guy was going to learn about them some other way. And then the hell was going to be even worse to pay. And Beckett didn’t want that to happen. Not just because he didn’t want the hassle. But because he owed it to Nick—as his friend and his brother—to come clean.

  Didn’t mean tha
t Beckett’s gut wasn’t all twisted up about whether Nick would think him good enough for his baby sister, though.

  He reached the gym door, took a deep breath, and punched in the pass code. Man up, Murda. Right.

  Inside, things were hopping, despite the fact that it was after eleven o’clock. Some Ravens were lifting weights. Others were shooting the shit around the table. And two guys were tossing a ball back and forth, driving Eileen crazy by bouncing it over her head. Easy was pounding out a fast pace on the treadmill. And, in the back corner, Nick, Marz, and Shane were poring over something on Marz’s desk.

  Beckett had faced down terrorists who wanted nothing more than to take his life with their very hands, and he’d probably never been as nervous as he was right now. For fuck’s sake.

  He moved into the room. About midway across, he spied Cy peeking out from behind a weight machine. “You and me are gonna have a talk soon, too,” he said, pointing at the cat. A one-eyed blink was his only answer.

  And then he was standing on the far side of Marz’s desk next to Shane, peering down at what the three men were examining.

  Marz gave him a smile and tapped his finger against the pages. “Just going over all these instances when Merritt noted Kaine as having changed orders regarding counternarcotics missions.”

  “Marz was right,” Nick said, looking up at him. “Some of these gave me a bad feeling in my gut at the time, because they seemed out of character for Merritt. He was never a last minute kinda guy. Every damn time he’s marked those changes as having been ordered by Kaine.”

  Beckett nodded. And then his mouth acted without his brain’s permission. “I’d like to date your sister.”

  Oh, Jesus. Had he just blurted that out?

  Uh, yes. Yes, he had, if the expressions of the three men now gawking at him were any indication. Mouth and eyes wide, Shane’s was totally stunned with a side of Oh shit, this is gonna get interesting, fast. Shaking his head, Marz seemed half amused, half exasperated. And Nick . . . well . . . the frigid look he’d thrown at Marz earlier in the day didn’t begin to compare to this.

  “Come again?” Nick said, straightening to his full height and nailing him with a subzero stare.

  “Uh, maybe we should . . .” Beckett nodded his head to the side. “ . . . find a place to talk.”

  Nick crossed his arms. “Right here works for me.”

  Beckett swallowed. “Okay, uh . . .” His gaze flickered to Shane and Marz, who simultaneously looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them up and that they might burst out laughing. Fuckers. “I like her, Nick.”

  Nick’s gaze narrowed even further. “No, you don’t. You two drive each other fucking crazy.”

  Releasing a deep breath, Beckett shook his head. “I like her.”

  Tilting his head like Beckett was a puzzle he was trying to solve, Nick finally said, “I’ve known you how many years? Never once saw you get attached or even want to.”

  “I want to now. And I’d like your okay on that, because you’re my friend and my teammate.” Beckett crossed his arms.

  For a long moment, they both stood there, positions mirroring one another, separated only by Marz’s desk, like some sort of Old West showdown.

  “She’s my baby sister, Beckett. Jesus,” Nick finally said, planting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I pulled her pigtails and taught her how to box and remember that she had a stuffed elephant named Wuzzywoo that she carried with her everywhere.”

  Beckett tilted his head, a sliver of hope daring to trickle into his chest. Because Nick wasn’t saying no. “Wuzzywoo? Really?” He glanced at Marz and Shane and then did a double take, because they were so close to exploding with laughter that their faces were red and Marz had tears pooling in his eyes.

  “Yes,” Nick snapped. “Its goddamned name was Wuzzywoo!”

  That was it. Their two asshole friends lost it. Just flat-out lost their minds. Marz laughed so hard he half laid down on his desk. Shane held his gut and braced his hands on his knees.

  “Oh, God. Can’t . . . breathe,” Marz choked out. “He just . . . he just . . . came out and asked him . . .”

  “I know . . .” Shane said, slapping his hand on the top of the desk.

  Nick pointed at both of them. “You’re a fuckstick. And you’re a fuckstick.” Then he turned on Beckett. “And you better not be a fuckstick, or I will kick your ass until your children’s children can’t sit down. You got me?” Before Beckett had even inhaled to reply, Nick threw his hands out and loudly added, “Not that there better be any goddamned children. Fuck!”

  More laughter from the peanut gallery.

  Beckett bit back his smile. “Right. Don’t be a fuckstick. No children. Got it.”

  Nick braced his hands on the back of a chair. “It really has to be my sister you decide to go and get the feels for?”

  His smile finally won out. Nick wasn’t saying no. “Uh, that’s an affirmative.”

  “I kinda wanna punch you right now,” Nick said, slamming the chair down against the floor to punctuate the point.

  Better the chair than him. Beckett grinned. “I was sorta expecting that.”

  “Goddamnit,” Nick said. “Are we done here?” He gestured at the desk area. Marz and Shane, who had mostly pulled themselves together, managed a nod. “Good. I need me some Sunshine. I’ll see you fuckers in the morning.” As the guys croaked out good-byes, Nick came around the desk and clasped Beckett’s hand. “For real, man. Don’t hurt her.”

  “It’s the last thing I wanna do.”

  Nick nodded and huffed. “Goddamnit.” And then he stalked away.

  Beckett turned back to Marz and Shane. “Well, that went pretty good. Don’t ya think?”

  Marz held out his hands. “Dude. You just blurted it the fuck out.”

  Scratching his head, Beckett nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t really mean to do that.”

  They both offered him congratulations, and then everyone agreed to break til the morning. And Beckett was down with that, because he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He almost floated to Kat’s room. Or he would’ve. If he floated. Which he definitely did not do. Ever.

  He knocked, and when there was no answer, peeked inside. Empty. Next he tried the last door on the right—Jeremy’s room. Well, Jeremy’s and Charlie’s now.

  “Come in,” came a voice from inside.

  Beckett popped his head in and founded Jeremy and Charlie sitting sideways on the big bed, their backs against the dark green wall and a laptop on Charlie’s lap. Eileen lay in a black-and-tan ball between their legs. Nick must’ve brought her back over. “Seen Kat?”

  Jeremy grinned and flicked his tongue at the piercing on the side of his bottom lip. “You’re the guy.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “You’re the lucky guy. I knew it. I knew she had something going on.” Jeremy tapped Charlie twice on the leg and pointed at Beckett. “I knew it.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Sorry. Jer’s been ‘on the case,’ ” he said, using air quotes. “For the past few days. Ya gotta let him gloat a little.”

  Beckett shook his head, not sure what conversation they were having right now. “Yeah yeah, sure. But, uh, Kat?”

  “She’s taking a shower,” Jeremy said, waggling his eyebrow. As Beckett retreated, Jeremy yelled, “We share a wall, so keep it down over there.”

  Holy crap on a cracker, it was gonna be never-ending shit from here on out, wasn’t it? But then again, that seemed a small price to pay for getting Kat. Especially Kat in the shower. Kat, wet, in the shower.

  He knocked twice on the hall bathroom door. No answer, but the spray of the water sounded out from the other side. He looked both ways and found the coast clear, so he ducked inside and locked the door, eager to tell her that Nick wasn’t going to kill him. At least, not today. And they hadn’t even needed Becca’s intervention.

  Making quick work of getting undressed, Beckett dropped his clothes into a pile by the door. And then he pulled back the curta
in and stepped in. “Mind some company?”

  Kat spun, and her smile was immediate. She gave him a slow up and down perusal that said she liked what she saw. And damn if his body didn’t react to that, especially since he was perusing right back. “I don’t mind at all. This is a nice surprise.”

  He stepped closer, the warm spray reaching over her petite shoulders to hit his stomach, his hardening cock, his legs. His gaze dragged up her curves, drinking in every gorgeous inch. If he’d thought her beautiful before, it was nothing compared to—

  Dark marks on her arm. His gaze flicked to her other arm, where more dark marks—bruises—discolored her skin. He gently grasped her right wrist and lifted.

  Kat’s eyes went wide and she tugged her hand away. “Beckett—”

  “What. Is. That?” He studied the bruises long enough that they began to take shape . . . Fingerprints. Kat had fingerprint bruises on both arms. From . . . being grabbed? Beckett’s stomach dropped to the floor. His nightmare. His goddamned nightmare. He took a step back, his hand going to his forehead. “I . . .” He shook his head, half sure he was gonna throw up. He’d grabbed her so hard that he’d bruised her? Jesus, he was a fucking animal. And he thought he actually had a chance with her. He thought he could actually deserve her.

  He really wasn’t any better than his damn father.

  Beckett was out of the shower in an instant. Not bothering to dry off, he tugged on his boxers and jeans, his head nearly spinning.

  The water shut off behind him. “Beckett, wait. Look at me.”

  Couldn’t. It made him a fucking coward. He knew it did. But he couldn’t look again at the evidence that he’d hurt her.

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” she said, stepping out of the tub behind him.

  “Me neither. You told me it was nothing, Kat. You fucking told me—” He bit his tongue and shook his head, but he couldn’t keep it all in. He whirled on her and faced the damage he’d caused, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I grabbed you so hard in my sleep that I left bruises all over your arms. Why aren’t you fucking scared of me? You’re a smart goddamned woman. Use your head. I’m no good for you.”