If You Fall (Brimstone #1)

by S. E. Lund

  “He said he was in love with me? He told you that?”

  “I believe his words were to the effect of I’m in love with her, Sir. I think I fell in love with her on letter three but when I saw her in the bar that day? Goner.” Gramps smiled and took another drink. “Kinda hard to argue with a man who confesses his love for you.”

  “Dan died because of him.”

  “Dan died doing his job,” Gramps said, his voice soft.

  The waitress put our food down and we were silent for a moment.

  “He loved his job. That’s what you always told me when I said he had a dangerous profession,” Gramps said. “He was a hero.”

  “He was,” I said and my eyes teared up, my vision blurring.

  “If you ask me, so was Beckett. He almost lost his life trying to test equipment that was intended to make combat safer for our soldiers. I checked around after he came here and talked to a few friends I still have in high places. I believe Beckett has a few medals to show for what he did.”

  I didn’t say anything. I wiped tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and tried to get ahold of myself. I had to work in thirty minutes and wanted to be in control over my emotions.

  “It’s up to you, of course,” Gramps said and handed me a tissue. “You have to decide whether to see him again. I liked him, if that means anything.”

  “His family is in the Irish Mafia.”

  “He told me that, too. I checked his uncle out. Don’t worry,” Gramps said. “Apparently, Beckett is keeping tabs on his uncle for the DEA.”

  “He told me he was an undercover DEA Agent. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him.” I wiped my eyes with the tissue and blew my nose. Then I looked back at Gramps. “You like him? You think I should give him another chance?”

  He shrugged. “I like him, but it’s not my choice. You have to decide whether to give him another chance. Or not. But I know Marines. Top notch men and there are not too many good men around these days. That’s all I can say about it.”

  I sat in silence and pushed my food around on my plate. Usually, I’d have been all excited about eating the meat pie that my Gramps’s kitchen was so famous for, but my appetite had gone completely.

  We didn’t talk any more about Beckett or Dan or the whole mess. Instead, Gramps caught me up with the news of the bar and what had been done to renovate it in the year since I left. He told me about his friend from the NYPD who died a few months earlier, and I recalled the man from my time working there. He even caught me up with news of my mother, who was living up north with her new husband. She was apparently trying acupuncture to cure her pain and had gone off her pain meds. I hoped it was true because they made her a zombie.

  “You should go up there and visit,” he said. “I know she misses you and feels as if she’s been absent from your life for too long.”

  “She has,” I said, an old sore spot in my chest hurting. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t let things go too long. People die, sweetheart. You know that only too well.”

  I forced a smile and nodded. He was right. I should patch things up with my mom, if she was making a real effort to go off her meds.

  As to Beckett, I couldn’t at that moment consider forgiving him, but if Gramps was so willing to give him a pass, maybe I had to seriously consider it.

  I’d give it some time.

  I spent a long time that night at the pub thinking about what my grandfather said about Beckett.

  He said he knew Marines, and they were honorable and strong, heroic and loyal. I knew Gramps was right.

  I tried to think of what I’d tell Leah if it were her in my shoes and I knew the whole story. I’d probably tell her to give him a chance.

  Just the way she was telling me to give Beckett a chance.

  “So,” Gramps said before he left for the night. “How are you doing, kiddo? Going to forgive him? Give him another chance?”

  I smiled. “I’m thinking seriously about it.” Then I put down my bar cloth. “Why do you care? It seems like you like him.”

  He shrugged. “He came clean to me. I checked out his story and it was all above board, far as I can tell. Besides,” he said and leaned in, pinching my cheek. “I’m an old romantic at heart. I want to see you happy.”

  I smiled and said good night, watching as he left the bar. As I helped close up for the night, I remembered him and my grandma together. They’d been inseparable before she died a few years ago from early onset Alzheimer’s. Now he was all alone, with nothing but me and his bar as far as close, reliable family went.

  If he felt so certain about Beckett, maybe I had to trust his instincts. Of all the men I knew, his were instincts I trusted more than anything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Beckett

  That Thursday afternoon, I got a strange text.

  PHANTOMJOCK: Make your move.

  I read the message over and frowned. Phantomjock?

  Then I remembered that Miranda’s grandfather had been a Marine fighter pilot in Vietnam, flying the F-4 Phantom in combat.

  What did he mean, make my move? He must have spoken to Miranda about me on Tuesday… Was he encouraging me to try one more time?

  I thumbed a text back.

  BECKETT: Thank you, sir.

  Then I sent Miranda a text.

  BECKETT: Meet me for coffee. Or lunch. Or dinner. Your choice of time or place. Let me explain.

  I sat back and waited for a response, not sure whether she’d agree.

  Finally, later that evening as I sat alone in my office, working late again as usual, I got a text.

  MIRANDA: Why should I? You lied to me. How will I know what to believe?

  She was right. I almost lost hope at that point.

  BECKETT: You’re right. Let me at least explain what happened. You deserve to know.

  There was a long pause, and I half expected to never hear from her again. An hour passed. Then two.

  When the end of the usual business day came, I had given up all hope.

  Then, I heard my cell ding, indicating a new text message.

  I grabbed my phone and checked.

  MIRANDA: Not promising anything but I do want to know exactly what happened. The military never gave us any details. You were there, so you can tell me what happened and why my husband had to die.

  That hurt and I felt a sick sensation in my gut. I closed my eyes and tried to stop from overreacting.

  BECKETT: Where do you want to meet?

  There was a pause. Finally, she replied.

  MIRANDA: Tomorrow at your uncle’s restaurant. It’s not too far from my apartment. 1:00.

  Even though it was only so I could fill in the blanks about Dan’s death, I felt relief. At least I’d be able to come clean.

  BECKETT: Thank you. Meet you at 1:00.

  I sat back and ran my hands through my hair. I couldn’t afford to get my hopes up too much. I’d have one chance to apologize and try to at least answer her questions about how Dan died and why.

  The rest of the night passed slowly, with me tending bar, and watching the clock, hoping the hands would turn a lot faster than they were. My co-bartender Curt let me go fifteen minutes early, so after I cashed out, I left the bar and took my usual route down the street to where I caught my train.

  The streets were pretty empty, and as I walked, I thought about the next day and hoped that Beckett could say something to me that would convince me I could forgive him. At that moment, I was startled when I passed a darkened doorway and of all people, Steve stepped out in front of me.

  I stopped up short and gasped, then covered my mouth when I realized it was him.

  “Steve,” I said and exhaled loudly. “What are you doing here?”

  Of course I already knew what he was doing there. I had hoped he wasn’t really interested in me, but I’d been fooling myself, hoping he’d eventually get the message.

  “I just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said and held out his
arm like he was a gentleman helping me onto a cart in some Victorian romance. Even from where I stood, I could smell the liquor on his breath. He’d been drinking. From the way he swayed, I could tell it was a lot.

  “I’m fine,” I said and frowned, not taking his arm. “I’ve lived in Manhattan for years and know how to look after myself.”

  He shook his head. “It’s midnight, and it’s dark. There are all kinds of strange people on the street. How do you know that one of them wouldn’t hurt you?”

  I pointed to the subway entrance down the street and kept walking. “That’s my subway stop. I’m not afraid because I know the trains and don’t feel unsafe. Not at this time of night. Manhattan’s always busy. The city that never sleeps, right?”

  He shrugged. “It’s pretty deserted around here. If someone wanted, they could force you into a back alley and assault you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Leah told me you were working late tonight so…”

  “Thanks, but really,” I said and started down the steps. “I’m fine.”

  He caught up with me and took hold of my arm. “Hey, not so fast,” he said and smiled, his grip on my arm a bit too tight. “Have a drink with me before you go home.”

  I frowned and tried to pull my arm away. “It’s late,” I said, my voice low. “I’m tired and you’ve already had enough.”

  His grip lessened but he didn’t let go. Instead, he stroked my arm and then took hold of my shoulders. “I know that Beckett guy broke your heart,” he said. “I’m here for you, if you want to spill. You can cry on my shoulder.”

  I made a face and pulled away, but he wouldn’t let go. “I’m fine, Steve,” I said and laid my hand against his chest. “I don’t need a shoulder to cry on, thanks.”

  “Come on,” he said and pulled me closer, his grip tight as if he took my hand on his chest as an invitation for intimacy. “I know that he hurt you. Leah told me everything.”

  He tried to push my head onto his shoulder like he wanted me to cry.

  “Steve,” I said and then he tried to kiss me, one hand on my jaw, his lips missing my mouth and mashing against my cheek only because I tried turn my head away.

  “I care about you, Miranda,” he said when I finally was able to pull out of his arms. “I’ve been there for you all summer, and when I saw you with him, I knew he’d break your heart…”

  I stepped away and wiped off my cheek, which was wet from his sloppy kiss. “I’m fine,” I said.

  “How could you sleep with a jerk like him?” he said and stepped closer to me, running his fingers through my hair. “Someone who could never appreciate you like I do.”

  I glanced around and wanted to run, but he was blocking my way to the entrance. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the narrow alley between the two buildings. I struggled with him, but he was much stronger and managed to pull me into the alley a few feet.

  “Steve, stop,” I managed to say, my voice hoarse with shock and fear.

  “Hey!” I heard someone shout. When I turned, I saw Beckett standing at the entrance of the alley. He rushed over and grabbed Steve by the collar and pulled him away from me. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

  Beckett shook Steve and Steve didn’t resist. Beckett had about fifty pounds on him and was a few inches taller.

  “You leave her alone,” Steve replied, his hands on Beckett’s, which were almost wrapped around Steve’s neck. “You broke her heart.”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Beckett said, his fist rearing back, “before I punch your lights out. I could report you for assault…”

  “Don’t,” I said and put my hand on Beckett’s arm. “Let him go. I just want to go home.”

  Beckett glanced at me, his eyes narrowed, and then he turned back to Steve, shaking his head. Finally, he let go, and stepped back, blocking Steve’s access to me. “Go the fuck away before I change my mind.”

  “You,” Steve said and pointed at Beckett. “You’re a fucking horndog. You don’t deserve her.”

  Beckett nodded. “No, I don’t,” he said and adjusted his jacket, which had become bunched up during the altercation. “But I’d never force her to do anything against her will.”

  “Yeah, well, she’ll be sorry if she picks you.”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Beckett said. Steve finally complied and staggered off down the street.

  Beckett ran his hand through his hair and then turned to me, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

  I stood there with my eyes filled with tears, relieved that Beckett stepped in and upset that Steve seemed so tone deaf to my rejection. He scared me. I didn’t really think he’d rape me, but he was drunk and was willing to force me into the alley and try to kiss me despite my saying no.

  “Thanks,” I said, my eyes filled with tears of fear and shock. “Why were you here?”

  “I sensed you were in danger,” he quipped, smiling softly, running his hand over my hair. “It’s one of my super powers.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back, although I hid my smile behind my hand.

  “Actually, Leah told me you were working late and I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said, a guilty look on his handsome face.

  I sighed. “That’s what Steve said.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m not Steve,” he said, his voice low. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tissue. He handed it to me. “I’d never force you to do anything.”

  I nodded and took his tissue, using it to wipe my eyes. “I know. You’d just lie to me.”

  “I didn’t lie,” he said, his voice sounding frustrated. “I just didn’t tell you the truth.”

  “There’s a difference?” I said, but couldn’t help smiling.

  He glanced at my face and smiled back when he saw mine. “There is,” he said. “It’s subtle.”

  Of course at that moment, I broke down in tears, overwhelmed suddenly by everything. I held the tissue against my eyes and cried, my arms wrapped around myself. It all became too much – Steve, Beckett, the anniversary of Dan’s death…

  Beckett took me in his arms and I didn’t resist. I wasn’t afraid of him or his touch. It was comforting.

  “I’m so sorry, Miranda,” he whispered, his face next to mine, his lips near my ear.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said and slipped my arms around him.

  “So am I,” he replied and squeezed me. “So am I.”

  We stood like that for a moment and I realized how easy it would be to just go on from there, to invite him up to my apartment and to fall into his arms. When I felt his body pressed against mine, when I felt so warm and safe in his arms, I knew how I felt about him.

  I wanted him despite everything.

  I glanced up and our eyes met and in his gaze I saw such tenderness and concern. It made my breath catch in my throat.

  He bent down to kiss me just as I was leaning up to kiss him, and when our lips met, I melted into his arms, a thrill coursing through my whole body. The kiss was passionate, almost desperate, and my arms slid around him, squeezing him, my body pressed tightly against his.

  He took my hand and pulled me to his car, which was parked just down the street.

  “Come with me,” he whispered when he opened the passenger door. I stood still for a moment, but when I saw the expression on his face, I knew I wanted to go with him.

  After what happened with Steve, I didn’t want to be alone.

  I sat in the seat and fastened my belt while he got in the driver’s side. As soon as he started the car, he took my hand and kissed my knuckles tenderly.

  “Come to my place,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. Then he quirked a smile. “We could go to your place, but you said you had a single bed…”

  I leaned my head back against the headrest and sighed. “You’re assuming an awful lot, Beckett.”

  “Say the word and I’ll take you home.”

  I said nothing, staring in his eyes, knowing that I wanted hi
m. I wanted him to wipe thoughts of Steve away with his kiss and his touch.

  So I said nothing.

  Finally, he drove off and we zipped through the almost deserted streets to his place in Hell’s Kitchen.

  We didn’t talk while he drove, and it was as if we both were afraid to say anything in case whatever was happening between us stopped. When we finally arrived at his building, I let him lead me up the stairs to the front entrance and into the elevator. He pulled me against his body the way he had that first night at the Yacht Club and we kissed, deeply, my heart racing, my body warming at the thought that finally, it was clear to me how I felt and what I wanted.

  When we entered his penthouse apartment, I barely saw the place, despite my curiosity, for he wasted no time pulling me into his bedroom. He sat on the side of the massive king sized four poster bed and pulled me into his arms, my body between his spread legs, my arms around his shoulders.

  We sat like that for a moment, his face buried in my neck and I closed my eyes and gave into my desires. At that moment, I knew I still wanted him and had wanted him even though he deceived me. I was so afraid after Dan died that I’d never meet another man who would make my pulse quicken and my heart squeeze the way it did with Dan, but I had.

  Beckett made me feel that way again and it felt so good. It felt like I was finally living again. Until Beckett, I’d just been existing.

  He pulled off my shirt, revealing my bra. He buried his face between my breasts, kissing the skin on them before pulling down one cup to reveal my nipple. He sucked on it, tugging gently on it with his teeth and I gasped with pleasure.

  Then I was lost in the sensations of his mouth on mine, his tongue on me, his fingers and hands insistent, hungry, his eyes feasting on me once I was fully naked and lying back on his bed.

  “Oh, God, Miranda,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmured against the skin on my neck. “I couldn’t stand it. Not after I met you. Not after we were together, but I didn’t know how to make it right.”

  I kissed him, my emotions too high to speak. He made desperate love to me then, both of us so aroused and needy that I came so quickly, barely after he entered me and began to thrust and he wasn’t long after, groaning when he ejaculated, my name on his lips.