If You Fall (Brimstone #1)

by S. E. Lund

  I frowned. "The Yacht Club?” I said in disbelief.

  “Why do you find that hard to imagine?”

  “Maybe because you’re a biker?”

  He laughed at that. “Nah, I just like to ride now and then. I’m planning a retreat for my staff and will be giving a talk on security to some Wall Street types at a convention in Wilmington in a few weeks.”

  Hmm. Leah was right. He was high end.

  “How did you find your way to Oceanside? It’s a bit out of the way.”

  “I’m here looking for someone," he said. "Doing a favor."

  “Do they live on the island?"

  He nodded. "Just tracking someone down."

  "Do they have a name? I might know them."

  "That's classified info." He smiled a wicked smile. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

  "Then don't tell me." I grinned back. "I don't really want to know anyway."

  He said nothing for a moment while I poured drinks.

  "What time are you off?" he said finally.

  "Midnight, but the answer’s still no."

  “Can’t blame a man for trying.” He glanced at the thick watch on his wrist and when he pulled up the sleeve of his leather coat, I saw a tattoo on his arm just above his watch. I couldn't make out what it was, but it seemed to be a dark blue pattern.

  A tattoo of some kind.

  "Have one drink with me at least, sha," he said, his voice soft, with a bit more of a Cajun lilt than earlier. "It's such a shame when you meet someone special and then have to say goodbye far too soon."

  “You just met me,” I said and rolled my eyes. “How do you know I’m special? For all you know, I’m just another girl bartending at some out-of-the-way restaurant in Topsail Beach.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’m an excellent judge of character. It’s one of my many superpowers.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said in amused disbelief. “What are your other superpowers? Although, let me stop you,” I said and held out my palm. “I can already guess.”

  “You’ll just have to have a drink with me and find out,” he replied with a grin.

  I sighed. He was so damn gorgeous, his voice so sexy, and I was really starting to regret that I was almost ready to pass out from exhaustion. Even if he was only in town for a night, I would still enjoy a little male attention.

  "You never did tell me what you do for a living," I said, unwilling to stop the little game that was going on between us.

  "Like I say, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

  I laughed at that, but given my family and my current career hopes, alarm bells went off in my head.

  "I can't just have a drink with a perfect stranger. Especially one who warns me about having to kill me."

  "I was just joking," he said and took out a thin wallet, pulling out some ID. A driver's license and an ID tag. “If you insist.”

  I took them both and examined them. The driver's license was from the State of New York. Beckett Tate. The ID tag was for a tech firm in Manhattan – Brimstone Solutions, Inc. His name on that was Beckett Tate. CEO.

  Just then, Steve took the ID out of my hands and examined it closely.

  "CEO?" he said with a scoff as I took the ID back.

  "Yes," Beckett said and took another sip of his drink. “My company develops technology for the military. We also provide security intelligence and technical support for high value assets who have investments or companies that will be operating in conflict zones."

  "High value assets…” I said with a grin. “Like Wall Street bankers?”

  “Exactly.”

  "Are you a vet?”

  He nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  “A lot of vets go into the private military after they return," I said, trying to encourage him to speak.

  He nodded. "You have family in the military?"

  "You come from a long line of drunks?” I said and smiled. “I come from a long line of soldiers and law enforcement types."

  He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I was glad to get back to the real world. My time in the service was short, intense and I’m glad it’s over.”

  I wanted to know more, what branch of the military he had been in, but he seemed closed off once it was mentioned so I returned his IDs and went back to filling drinks.

  Beckett was glad to be back to the real world? That wasn't what Dan said when he came back before being redeployed the last time. He couldn't adjust. Hated the quiet. Hated the calm. We argued about him going back to Afghanistan, given the increasing violence there and our recent wedding. A few days before his last mission started, he said that if he didn't have incoming screaming in over his head, he didn't feel alive. That was why he went back – he needed that adrenaline rush.

  I never saw him again.

  "So, what do you say about that drink?" Beckett said, his voice pulling me back to the present. "You should unwind a bit from your long day of work. A shot of bourbon would be good for what ails you."

  I pulled up a fresh bottle of lime juice for the drink I was mixing. "A shower and then a bed would be best for what ails me."

  He grinned mischievously. "I could arrange that."

  I laughed out loud. He was persistent if nothing else. "You are so charmingly direct."

  "I know what I want when I see it."

  "Oh, yeah?" I said, trying but failing to keep the smile off my face as I worked. "And what exactly is it that you want, Monsieur Tate?"

  "What I see."

  "And why, may I ask? A girl is curious…" I said, making a Game of Thrones reference.

  I stopped pouring and turned to him, facing him squarely. I was enjoying his attempt to pick me up. He wasn't trying to hide it. He was going for broke. I had to admire that.

  "Because what a man sees is just about the most delicious thing he’s seen for a long time."

  "Only just about?"

  "Let me rephrase that," he said and leaned forward, licking his bottom lip. "What a man sees is the most delicious thing he’s seen for just about ever."

  Our eyes burned into each other's and heat rose in my face. Damn. He was the hottest man I'd ever met – next to Dan. He totally knew my Game of Thrones reference. Sadly for me, and given my career aspirations, I wasn’t into one-night stands with strangers even if they knew about faceless men. That would make me a security threat.

  "It's that just about that keeps getting me, Beckett." I leaned forward, our faces just a few inches away from each other. "I really don't appreciate feeling like second best."

  "You can't tell where something ranks until you try,” he replied. “Besides, life is short. You should just live dangerously for once, sha. Come on. Have a drink with me …"

  I sighed, wishing I could. “You're very tempting, Monsieur Tate with the Cajun accent. I’m hoping to get into the FBI when I finish my degree. Living dangerously is not on the agenda until after that. I have to watch my associates if I hope to get in.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m one of the safest men you could talk to.”

  “So you say.”

  “I’m scouting out locations for a staff retreat I’m planning. I spent some time at Camp Lejeune when I was with Special Operations Forces and I like the area. Besides, there’s a convention in Wilmington coming up and so I thought I’d find a nice place for my staff retreat. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  That sounded like a good story, but I was still hesitant.

  “You can see I’m a nice guy,” he said, his voice coaxing. “I’m a business man. I’m a veteran. Have a drink with me when you get off work. Live dangerously.”

  “I'm not that kind of girl," I said with a sigh.

  He sighed in return. "My loss."

  I turned back to the stack of drink orders in front of my station and continued pouring while he watched me. I had a feeling it would be both our loss, because he looked like a man who would be exceptionally intense in bed. Demanding, accomplished, skilled, unrelenting. Mo
st of all, Alpha. Just the way I liked it. The way Dan had been. My body responded to the thought of living dangerously for once, my heart racing, butterflies in my stomach.

  Damn…

  I couldn’t do it. Not only because I wasn’t quite a year out from Dan’s death but his memorial was coming up and the whole family would be traveling to Arlington for the ceremony. Besides, I had this sense that Beckett was dangerous in a way I couldn’t explain.

  He said nothing more for a while, occupying himself with his bourbon and watching me pour drink order after drink order. He seemed determined to wait me out, probably hoping to hit on me once more after I got off shift.

  On my part, I watched the clock. I appreciated persistence, but wouldn’t cave, no matter how gorgeous he was.

  In about fifteen minutes, I asked Steve to take over while I went outside for a break. Leah popped out with me and lit up a smoke. I never smoked, but I still liked to stand out back and listen to the surf crashing on the beach a few hundred yards away, breathing in the salt air.

  “Mr. Hot Stuff seems to like you,” she said as she puffed on her cigarette.

  “He’s not my type,” I said, although I had to hold back a smile.

  She laughed at that, knowing me well enough to see it for the lie it was.

  “Bullcrap. If he was into me the way he seems into you, I’d go for it. It’s been almost a year, Mira. You’ve done your mourning.”

  “Steve doesn’t like him.”

  “Steve doesn’t like any man you might look at twice. He’s jealous, Mira.”

  “He’s not jealous,” I said. “He’s like a brother to me.”

  “Not in his mind,” she said and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe a stepbrother.”

  I laughed at that, thinking of a book we both read.

  “Whatever,” I said with a shrug. “Dan deserves a year.”

  “You should just take a chance and live dangerously for once.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  She smiled. “You see? We’re both right. You deserve it, sweetie.”

  “Like I told him, living dangerously is not going to get me into the FBI.”

  She shrugged and took a drag on her cigarette, leaning against the wall. “Then you won’t mind if I do? He’s too hot to pass up.”

  “Go for it,” I said, regretting that I wasn’t more like her, unable to keep a frown off my face. Leah saw it and laughed.

  “See? You care. I was just kidding. Besides, Mr. Hot Stuff hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. My body warmed at the thought of taking Mr. Beckett Tate home with me, except of course, I lived with Dan’s parents. Instead, I imagined going to his hotel room and seeing what was hidden beneath that white turtleneck and low-slung jeans. From the glances I snuck between pouring drinks, I imagined he’d be sporting a hard body with a nice six-pack. My body ached for a man’s touch…

  “Well, that’s it for me,” I said and opened the back door. “Gotta get back.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” she said and held up her cigarette. “As soon as I’m finished.”

  “You know you have to quit that if we’re going to start the fitness and rock climbing routine you have planned.”

  “One of these days,” she said and smiled guiltily.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beckett

  While Mira ducked out the back, I faced the male bartender, Steve, who I could tell didn’t like the moves I was making on Mira.

  “You should move on,” he said to me, frowning. “She’s not for you.”

  “I think that’s up to her to decide,” I said softly, trying hard not to take too much offense.

  He stood eyeing me, polishing a glass with a towel. I sighed and turned away, then I decided to go to the back and see if the manager was in so I could ask about Dan’s parents. They might have a local phone directory if he wouldn’t give me the parent’s address.

  I went to the back of the restaurant, through a door that led to the kitchen on one side and the offices on the other. Down a long hallway was what looked like the main office, so I cracked the door open and checked inside. A light was on, but the room appeared empty. I looked on the desk for a phone directory, but saw nothing immediately resembling a phone book and I didn’t want to go inside and check around. That would be going a step too far, even for me, a DEA rat.

  I went down the hallway to the door leading back into the restaurant. Before I reached the door, Mira emerged from the other end of the hallway, adjusting her apron. She must have been in the staff washroom.

  "What are you doing here?" she said in a disapproving tone.

  "Looking for the manager." I needed to placate her, so I went up close to her and stared down into her pretty hazel-green eyes, which were very untrusting at the moment. "I need to speak to him."

  "You better leave," she said, her voice wavering a bit with emotion. “Didn’t you see the sign on the door? Staff only.”

  "I really need to see the manager."

  I hoped she didn’t press me. I didn’t have the wherewithal to think up a story to cover for my being in the back. It wasn’t as if I could just say to her ‘Hey, sweetheart, can you tell me where your ex-parents-in-law live so I can return the letters you wrote to your fallen-hero husband who died because of me? Thanks!’

  "He’s not working tonight," she said pointed to the exit.

  I wanted to dispel the bad feeling between us, so I laid on some charm. "Ladies first."

  She turned to go back but I could tell she was still angry with me, and as a result, any chance I had of convincing her to have a drink with me after work would be dead.

  "Look, I'm sorry if I insulted you,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “It's just that you’re very pretty and seem really smart and funny. I'd really like if we could just have one drink, talk a bit."

  "I don't think so."

  When she tried to leave once more, I put my arm on the wall, stopping her from leaving. It was done playfully. Of course, I would never force a woman. I didn’t have to force them.

  To my surprise, she leaned against the wall beside me and looked up in my eyes, the quirk of a smile on her lips. Pretty soft-pink lips, nice and full and which I knew would feel very nice on my lips – or elsewhere for that matter.

  "All right, cowboy," she said, her arms crossed, smiling more widely now. "I'll have a drink with you when I'm off shift. You're just about the best thing a girl has seen in a long while, too."

  I smiled, trying to hide my surprise. I really didn’t think she’d agree to it after finding me in the back checking out the joint.

  "Thank you, sha," I said and leaned down a bit closer. "I'll try to make it worth your while."

  "Just try?" She had this playful expression in her eyes that sent a jolt of desire right to my dick, which was starting to perk up.

  I laughed. "You give me a chance and I promise to make it worth your while."

  She looked me over, like she was assessing whether I could deliver. "You talk big. I hope you live up to it."

  Then, to my even bigger surprise, she leaned forward on her toes and… kissed me.

  I was too shocked to even appreciate the feel of her lips on mine for the first time. My mind was too busy trying to figure out what her game was. She went from cold to hot in sixty seconds…

  Soon, though, my mind forgot all about her game, and instead, focused on her soft mouth on mine. Real soon. Like, in three seconds.

  I cupped her cheek and kissed her more passionately, wanting to see how deep she would let me go. Then, she slipped her arm around my waist and I tensed, even though I appreciated any sign of her interest, for her hand was close to my sidearm.

  I pulled back a bit and our kiss broke.

  "Oh, sha, you are delicious, but hold that thought until later," I said, wishing we could continue. Hell, wishing I could push her up against the wall and take her then and there. I was definitely ready, my cock already semi-hard. "I won'
t be able to walk back to the bar without a big limp if you keep that up."

  "Shut up and kiss me," she said, and pulled me back down to her mouth. I was glad to oblige and kissed her now more passionately, putting my entire mind to it.

  Then I felt her grab my gun.

  At that point, instinct took over. I turned her around so that her back was facing me and I had her hands confined in one of mine. My other arm was around her waist, pulling her against my body.

  Damn, woman…

  "Sweetheart," I said, my lips beside her face. "Did you really think you were going to disarm me? I’m a foot taller and at least seventy-five pounds heavier."

  She tried to wrestle loose, but she was far smaller and I was able to restrain her easily, enjoying the feel of her soft curves against me.

  "I saw your weapon under your jacket,” she said, her voice breathy. “You're armed."

  "Yes, I'm armed. Licensed to carry a concealed weapon. I can show you if you want."

  She wasn’t placated. "Even if you have a permit, you're not legally able to carry a concealed weapon into this bar,” she said matter of fact. “You saw the permit on the door. You are not legally permitted to drink alcohol while carrying a concealed weapon in this establishment so you're breaking the law."

  "I'm DEA,” I said, my face in her hair, smelling it – a mixture of some kind of fruity shampoo and clean sweat. Frankly, I could have stayed in that position all night, her butt pressed against my groin, my arm around her waist, my face variously in her neck or beside her cheek. “We can carry a concealed weapon in a bar and drink if need be."

  It was the truth.

  Finally, I released her when I felt her relax just a bit. I adjusted myself, straightening my jacket. I hoped she didn’t notice my semi, currently straining against my jeans. Not that I was embarrassed about it. It was a fine specimen. No, I didn’t want to make her embarrassed.

  "I thought you’re the CEO of a security firm,” she said, standing in front of me, her arms crossed.

  “Can’t I be both?” I asked lightly.

  She was quiet for a moment while I ran a hand through my hair.

  “You understand that when I'm head bartender, I'm also acting manager. Let me see your badge," she said, holding out her hand.