Kurt frowned. He had not heard of a friend Royce, and that T-shirt looked familiar. Didn’t he have one just like it?
“He knows Ryker!” Becki explained quickly, as if that would make Kurt feel better. “He didn’t know the beach house was occupied, so he-uh, stopped by this morning to check on things.”
Kurt relaxed his stance somewhat, and took a couple steps back.
“Royce,” Becki continued, “This is my uncle, Kurt Rodgers.”
Royce stepped around Becki and offered a hand-shake, “Royce St. John, pleased to meet you, Sir.”
Accepting the hand offered in greeting, Kurt responded in kind, “Nice to meet you as well.”
Royce immediately recognized the tattoo on Kurt’s forearm; it was identical to the one Ryker’s dad carried. Each person in Ryker’s old unit wore the same tat, commemorating a team member who had been lost. Hidden in the intricate design was a crest known only to those who worked with the Secret Council. He wore an identical crest, hidden in the shell of a sea turtle inked on his chest, just above his heart.
Picking up his cup of cold coffee, Royce asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?”
“No-, uh, no thanks, I came to pick something up,” Kurt said, looking around. “Has Landon been here already? I called him on my way over.”
Royce became suddenly interested in coffee grounds at the bottom of his cup. And then as luck would have it, his watch began to flash. Oh shit! Sean’s timing was spot-on as usual.
Royce quickly covered the flashing time-piece. While Becki had not noticed anything out of the ordinary, Kurt’s sharp eyes did not miss a thing. Becki watched both men curiously.
“Hey Kurt, what happened to your truck?” Landon asked, as he strolled out to join the party from inside the kitchen, coffee cup in hand.
“Landon, you have to stop picking my locks!” Becki complained.
“What? I knocked on my way in,” Landon said, adopting an air of innocence.
The fact of the matter was he had caught the scent of a stranger. When Becki did not immediately answer his knock on the door, he took matters into his own hands. He followed the trail into the kitchen and then picked up Kurt’s scent as well. Since he knew things were under control, he stopped to pour himself a cup of coffee before joining the crew outside. Landon frowned as he recognized the shirt Royce was wearing as one that belonged to Kurt. But who was he to make judgments?
Kurt shook his head grumbling, “Never mind about my truck. It’s a long story.”
Landon shrugged, and then sat his cup on the patio table, “Let’s get Becki’s crate loaded and see if we can get it opened up.” Landon frowned as he looked around, “Did you move it already?”
“No, I haven’t moved it; that son-of-a-bitch was heavy. I figured you had already been here and moved it.”
“Nope,” Landon said, raising his face slightly to draw in a deep breath through his nose. The only scents he picked up were those of Becki, Kurt, and her visitor.
Royce caught Landon’s slight movement, the lifting of his face, the “sniff”. Evidently he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. As Royce’s eyes lingered on Landon, he raised his eyebrows slightly in silent question.
Becki spun around, visually scanning the deck. How had she missed the fact that her crate was gone? “I can’t believe someone would have the nerve to walk right up on my deck and steal it,” she complained.
“I have a hard time believing that myself,” Kurt said, staring hard at Royce. “That sure is strange,” he mused. “Doesn’t that strike you as strange, Landon?” Kurt pressed, never once taking his eyes off Royce.
Landon, who picked up on Kurt’s coded message right away, moved to stand directly behind Kurt.
“How would you explain something like that?” Kurt directed his question to Royce as both men began to steadily advance toward him.
Royce stood and waited; he didn’t want to have to fight these two. Although there was no doubt he could kick their collective asses. He had a trick or two up his sleeve and could cause enough damage to Landon to at least slow him down. He really didn’t want to hurt either of them. Becki would most likely be very unhappy with him if he did.
“For Heaven’s sake, back off you two,” Becki said as she stepped in front of Royce.
Royce’s hands immediately went to Becki’s waist to push her gently aside. If Landon was not skilled enough to resist his Wolf’s desire to shift, he did not want Becki to be hurt.
Standing behind Royce now, eyes blazing, she struggled to get back in front of him. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked Royce through jaws locked shut in frustration.
Finally deciding she was not going to get around him, she shouted, “You all are starting to piss me off. You act like I’m sixteen instead of twenty-two. It’s Halloween, you idiots; the kids have been pulling pranks all week. I’m sure the stupid box will turn up. What exactly are you accusing him of anyway? And, Royce will you stop pushing me around!”
“Becki,” Royce intervened smoothly, “could I ask you to go put my clothes in the dryer?”
Had he lost his mind? Becki sputtered, “You want me to go put your clothes in the dryer, now? In case you haven’t noticed, Landon and my Uncle are--”
“That is a great idea, Becki,” Kurt agreed, interrupting her. “Go put his clothes in the dryer, please.”
“But--”
“Now,” both men said in unison.
“This is bull shit,” Becki said as she stomped across the deck and flung the patio door open wide. Spinning around to pin the three men with a lethal stare she complained, “This is total bullshit, and you know it!” She stepped into the kitchen and then slammed the door behind her, the glass literally rattled in its frame.
If Kurt had to fix her door after this, it would serve him right. Who the hell did they think they were, ordering her off her own deck? She flung Royce’s wet things in the dryer and then ran a sink full of dish water. She hated washing dishes by hand, but she was pissed right now, and could not sit still.
“How do you know Ryker?” Kurt asked as soon as the patio door slammed shut.
Royce may have him by a good eight inches and probably twenty years, but he had been trained to fight for his life. He also knew Landon’s secret. There would be no contest between Landon and the mortal. Unfortunately, that would bring a lot of questions to the surface, questions he would like to avoid.
“I work with him,” Royce answered. “Well, to be more accurate, he works for me at ART Security.”
Recognition-- and something else-- flared in Kurt’s eyes. ART. Royce was part of the Secret Council’s team? Why would the Council have someone working in the Charleston area? Kurt’s contacts still kept him apprised of any local situations. He had not heard of any activity in the area for a couple of years. Since special Ops guys didn’t stay in one place too long, Kurt knew Becki would be in no danger. The two men backed up, and Royce relaxed his stance.
“How long will you be in town?” Kurt asked.
Royce reached for his coffee mug, and emptied the now-cold liquid into a potted banana tree before answering. “As soon as I get things wrapped up here, I’ll be heading back to Asheville.” Glancing toward the kitchen door Becki had just slammed, he continued, “The sooner the better.”
Kurt had served with Ryker’s dad in Bahrain several years ago, and had every intention of calling Ryker Senior the minute he left Becki’s. Something didn’t feel right. If “The Council” was involved, it could only mean one thing: danger was near. He knew that Royce would not hurt Becki, but whomever or whatever he was tracking could, and Kurt didn’t want Becki anywhere around it.
Kurt nodded and moved toward the back door, “Landon, I need to get back to work.” With a quick nod to Royce, Kurt added, “I trust your business here will be concluded quickly. Keep her out of it.”
At Royce’s affirmative nod, Kurt continued through the door. Becki dried the last dish before slamming it down on the counter.
> Kurt pinned her with his gaze, announcing, “I want to see you at my house for dinner tomorrow night.”
This time, he didn’t wait for a response before he took his leave.
Looking shell-shocked, Becki responded to a now empty room, “Ok, I’ll be there.”
What the hell? Why was Kurt acting so weird this morning? There was only one way to find out. Flinging the towel down on the counter she headed toward the back door with a purpose.
# “What was that all about?” she asked as soon as she saw Royce, who was leaning with both forearms propped on the deck rail, thoughtfully staring into her back yard.
Royce shook his head and stepped away from the railing, “I guess he doesn’t like strange men at your house so early in the morning,” he said with a wicked smile.
“Don’t give me that,” Beck scoffed. Pulling her bangs up, she continued, “Do I have ‘stupid’ written on my forehead?”
He stepped forward cupping the back of her head to stare intently at the exposed strip of flesh directly above her eyebrows. As if he were indeed looking to see if something was written there. Royce suddenly smiled and buzzed a kiss in the middle of her forehead. “No, I don’t see anything written there. All I see is--”
Becki shoved him away, “It was a rhetorical question, ass.”
Royce walked over to the table and picked up the empty coffee mugs, intending to take them back into the kitchen. He hoped she had put his clothes on speed-dry; she was too cute for her own good.
“I’ll get those,” she said pointing to the coffee mugs he was currently holding.
“It’s no trouble. It’s the least I can--”
“I said I would get them,” she all but snarled now.
He sat them back down on the table, not wishing to upset her further. “Ok, I’m--”
“What- exactly- is it that you do?” There was a mystery here, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
“Home security,” he responded automatically.
“I see, home security,” she smiled, like a Cheshire cat.
Becki slowly shook her head and began moving toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Something told him, he was in trouble.
“You said Ryker works for you?” she asked, moving one step closer to him.
“You confirmed that he is out of the country?” another step.
Oh shit! He was being stalked like some rodent.
“Do you provide a lot of home security outside of the U.S.?” yet another step closer.
“How was it you said you got here?” Becki’s head started spinning, but still she pressed on.
Without giving him an opportunity to respond to any of the previous questions, she went straight for the juggler, “And why, pray tell,” she paused, suddenly grabbing the hem of his shirt to jerk it upward, exposing his left pectoral muscle, “do you have the same crest hidden in your tattoo that I’ve seen hidden in Kurt’s?”
She jerked the hem of the shirt back down, put both hands on her hips and concluded the inquisition by demanding, “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what is really going on Royce?”
Royce watched as Becki stared at him expectantly. She had drilled him like a prosecuting attorney with an open-and-shut case. So, she wanted to know what was “really” going on. Sure, it was easy to explain. He was in charge of a recovery team, who worked for a mostly immortal secret council, whose current mission was to track down some missing coins spelled by Merlin centuries ago. His team had traced one of the coins to Charleston where he had indeed recovered said coin; unfortunately, his efforts had been sabotaged by a band of Witches before he could turn the magic coin over to the Secret Council of Elders. The past two years of his life had been spent locked inside a crate at the bottom of the ocean. The same crate she had found, picked up, and brought home; the same crate that had literally disappeared after magically unlocking a few short hours ago. Sure, that was believable, and easy to explain.
Clearing his throat, Royce said “Look, Becki, I wish I could, really, but I can’t. Some-things, you are better off not knowing. This is one of them.”
“Right.”
Royce reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and could not resist cupping her jaw in his hand to gently tilt her face toward his. “I appreciate your help in more ways than you know, but I can’t give you the answers you are looking for. I wish I could, but it’s just not possible,” he finished with a sigh letting his hand drop down to his side. “I need to be going. My things should be close to dry by now.”
She was the cutest thing with her brow wrinkled in confusion, but seeing disappointment flash in her eyes was almost physically painful. He had to get the hell out-- while he still could. The desire to scoop her up in his arms, head for the bedroom, and do all the things he hadn’t been able to do for the past two years was almost too much to resist. A man could get lost in her chocolate eyes.
“It was very nice to meet you Becki Stephens, and I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you’ve done for me. You have a couple of real heroes watching out for you. Don’t give them too much of a hard time.” He reached out to trace a finger over the frown lines marring her forehead, “Thanks for the shower, and coffee, and…thanks for everything.” Royce bent to kiss her softly on the forehead and then turned and moved away.
As she watched him walk through the doorway into her house, she mumbled, “Are you effing kidding me?” She stood where he had left her; outside on the deck, rooted to the spot by feelings of shock and betrayal. She couldn’t believe he would casually stroll away with no explanation, not even a meet-me-sometime-for-a-drink, nothing, nada.
Anger rose quickly and propelled her through the doorway, “Really? That’s it?” she yelled slamming the door once again. If the glass survived the remainder of this day, it would be a miracle.
Becki felt the sting of tears, but she would not let him see her cry. Evidently mind-numbing kisses could be one-sided, because it clearly meant nothing to him. He was going to kiss her on the forehead this time, like some child, and simply walk away without a backward glance. Well, that was fine, just fine! She had plenty of offers. Unfortunately none of them compared to the oh-so-perfect male specimen now pulling his clothes out of her dryer.
Royce closed his eyes as he heard tears in Becki’s voice. It almost killed him to know he had hurt her. His heart ached with the knowledge that he had to walk away from her, and walk he would. His life was dangerous. The Council had obviously not given him the full story concerning the coins, and who or what might be launching recovery efforts. He couldn’t, wouldn’t involve her.
He walked back into the kitchen. God, if she had thought he looked good in swim trunks, the sight of him in faded blue jeans and a black tight-fitting T-shirt took her breath away.
“Becki,” he returned softly, purposely keeping his distance. He knew if he touched her again he might not have the strength to leave. “Becki, it’s for the best. I have a job to do. I’m on a tight schedule and running behind.” Running two years behind, if you wanted to get technical.
Her tear drenched eyes suddenly dried, and shutters immediately dropped down over any expression remaining there. “I’m getting in the shower. Lock up when you leave,” she said evenly, “you never know who might just walk in.” With that, she brushed past him moving quickly toward her bedroom.
Doors opened and slammed; drawers slid open and then banged shut. “A tight schedule,” she mumbled furiously. “What an ass.”
She was mad now which was preferable to the tears he had seen earlier. Royce felt a smile tug at his lips as he listened to her slam things around and mutter curse words directed toward him. Her temper had bubbled over, and he sure wished he had time to take on that temper. The knowledge that she was getting naked in the next room made it difficult to even think about leaving. Had circumstances been different, had they met in a different time and place--. He heard the shower running and knew he had to go, now.
Royce saw the
rental car pull up in front of the house-- a black SUV, how cliché. Sean had a twisted sense of humor; he knew Royce would rather have been riding in a red sports car. He was going to have a serious chat with that kid one of these days. Time to get moving, he had a lot of ground to make up. He locked the front door and pulled it shut behind him.
Becki replayed this morning’s events in her head becoming more frustrated and confused by the minute. “That’s what I get for waking up before noon,” she muttered. Natie should be calling soon. If she hurried there was enough time for a quick trip to the dive-shop. She had her eye on a pink snorkel and fin set, and God knew she needed a little retail therapy.
By the time Becki finished getting ready, the house was empty. Royce had gone, and she felt a great heaviness in her chest, a sadness she didn’t care to dwell on. He had made it very clear; he was busy and had things to do, and she didn’t fit into his schedule. “His loss,” she announced to herself flippantly. But if she were being honest, she was the one feeling a loss; feeling it all the way to the pit of her stomach.
# “Heyyy Girl,” Vickie called as Becki strolled into Supreme Scuba. “What have you been up to?”
Vickie owned the local dive shop and had worked hard to “sex-up” the hobby. Her new line of female scuba fashion had taken off like gangbusters. She had all the newest gadgets with bling galore.
“You here for the pink set?” Vickie asked knowingly.
Becki had fallen in love with the new hot-pink snorkel and fin set as soon as she had spotted them.
“You know it,” Becki grinned. “I’ve gotta look good out there.”
“You always look good, and you know it,” Vicki scoffed. “Did you score some teeth for me yesterday?” she asked, her eyes shining in anticipation.
“No, but we did find a crate of some sort,” she said browsing through the sale rack of bikinis. “We couldn’t get the darn thing open, so I brought it home and put it on my deck last evening. Unfortunately, the brats decided to prank me last night and took it.”
Treasure Tides (The Coins) Page 5