“Cal will let us know if that’s true.”
When Declan made a move to grab the envelope, Beck dropped it out of reach. “Or you could.”
Declan swore under his breath. “This conversation is starting to suck wind.”
“You could find out in two seconds and we wouldn’t have to open the envelope or betray any confidence.” Beck turned it over and ran his finger along the taped seam. “We could be ready for whatever shitstorm the envelope brings if we knew what’s inside it.”
Declan sat down on the couch’s armrest. “Maybe I don’t care.”
The statement hung there. Beck turned it over in his mind, trying to figure out how anyone would want to be left in the dark, especially after their upbringing. He struggled for the right words but went for the most obvious. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.” Declan balanced his hands on his thighs. “I have what I need.”
There was no way going through life, waiting to see what came along rather than knowing, made sense. Thoughts bounced around Beck’s mind as he tried to imagine his regimented military brother living that way. Clearly being in love had fried his brain.
“What if what’s in that envelope threatens your relationship with Leah.”
Declan shook his head. “Nothing could.”
The definitive comments kept piling up. Beck didn’t know how to analyze them or what to believe. Declan’s responses defied rational thinking and . . . “Wait, do you already know? Is that where this disinterest is coming from? Did Leah tell you what she put in there? Do you know because you’ve gone through all those files she collected on us for all those years?”
Those were the only scenarios that made sense. Those Beck could comprehend and deal with. He wanted in the loop, but at least that loop led to an answer.
“Let’s clear this up right now with a bit of repetition.” Declan stood up and in a smooth arc, snatched the envelope out of Beck’s hand and held it up. “I don’t know what’s in this damn thing.”
Man, he hadn’t gone through with his fantasies of taking Sophie up against the library wall, because he wanted the truth from her first. Beck wanted the secrets out in the open. And here Declan was building a whole life with Leah while a piece of information hung out there.
Beck didn’t get it at all. “But . . . how is that possible?”
“Because I haven’t looked in it. As long as it’s not about Callen’s health or something he needs to stay safe, and Leah has assured me that’s not it, then I do not want to invite trouble.”
“But she gave Cal the envelope.”
“I know, Beck. I was there when it happened. I also heard Cal say he didn’t want to open it right now.”
That was a month ago, and to Beck the unnecessary delay meant Callen was stuck wallowing in denial. “Ask Leah about it.”
“I have much better things to do when I’m alone with Leah.” Declan used the edge of the envelope to point at Beck. “And you’re not allowed to bug her about it either.”
Beck’s defense soared. Arguments raced up his throat and he hovered on the edge of launching into his version of a brotherly cross-examination. “Allowed?”
This time Declan shook the envelope. After years of fighting off a raging temper, Declan had learned to control it. Now he stood there with flatlined mouth and tension zapping off of him and stared Beck down. “Look, the contents are Cal’s business.”
“You’re assuming.” That’s the piece about his brothers that ticked Beck off. They went round and round on this about Charlie and the threatening letters and even the town’s police chief and his best friend, Leah’s irrational father, who wanted all Hanovers arrested for having Charlie’s genes. Callen and Declan heard pieces of information and took them as fact. Beck refused to do that.
Beck circled back around to the thought pounding through him. “I can’t believe you don’t want to know. That it doesn’t bother you.”
“We’re not all nosy lawyers.”
There it was. The Hanover Brother way of getting out of an honest discussion. The minute the words left Declan’s mouth, a white-hot rage washed through Beck. It was the one time too many. “My fucking career choice has nothing to do with this and you know it.”
Declan’s eyes widened as his hands went into the air in what looked like surrender. “What the hell?”
“Stop using what I do as an excuse.”
“For?”
“Who I am.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Forget it.” Beck said the words, but the pounding heat continued to pump through his veins. He felt every swoosh, every burning movement.
“Hard to when you just made it clear this attorney thing is such a sensitive subject.”
Right. He was sensitive. “I know you and Cal don’t have any respect for my career, but—”
“Stop.” Declan’s face fell, from his eyebrows to his mouth. It was as if the life pumped right out of him.
“Why should I?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“Right.”
“Hey, I said hold up.” Declan whipped the envelope, sending it flying until it smacked against the couch cushion and slid to the floor, and grabbed Beck’s arm. It fell to his side right after. “We respect you and how hard you work and that you’ve never taken the easy way out. Traveling around, providing oversight to legal aid offices.”
It was Beck’s turn to be stunned. He had no idea either of his brothers got his job, other than it being in a field they despised. “You reading my resume again?”
“Leah explained it to me in small words.”
Beck couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, even though the rumble in his chest actually left an ache there. “Fair enough.”
“You make sure local offices are doing what they’re supposed to as part of the Legal Services Corporation, whatever that is. I’m guessing some sort of legal aid Mother Ship.”
Beck dropped down onto the coffee table. For some reason, his legs refused to hold him. “Something like that.”
“See, I listen.”
Some of the heated air escaped the room and Beck could breathe again. “Apparently.”
“Bottom line, I get that you have to balance political stuff from D.C. with the needs of the people in different state offices. What you do is important. It helps people. No one appreciates that more than I do.” Declan grew louder with each sentence until the last part came out in a yell. His voice echoed through the small room until it rolled out again into deathly silence.
The quiet proved as unnerving as the tense argument. Beck glanced at the television, seeing his blurred image reflected in the dark screen. He took in his slumped shoulders and tucked the conversation in the back of his mind where he could analyze it later.
“Let’s find another topic,” he said, suddenly willing to talk about anything else.
“We’re just wary when it comes to law enforcement and anyone related to the court system. You have to admit we have reason to be,” Declan said. “There’s a rogue FBI guy hanging around town right now, pretending to conduct a neutral investigation when we know he’s just after Cal.”
Looked like Declan wasn’t ready to let it go.
Beck owned his part in the blow-up. Exhausted or not, this was a conversation they needed to have. Whether this was the right time was a different question. “But Cal still hasn’t explained why.”
“It’s this Walker Reeves guy, whatever his title is.”
Beck filled in the answer from the online search he did on the guy. “FBI Special Agent, and it’s clear he and Cal have a history.”
“There are a lot of guys on the planet who have a history with me, but they aren’t following me around. Trust me: There’s more going on there, but I think it comes from Reeves.”
“Cal has
a lot of secrets.” Which led Beck right back to his point that secrets ruin everything and everyone they touch.
“I’m thinking he’s entitled. We all are. Law enforcement, police chiefs from small towns and big cities, have been dropping by our entire lives in the hope of catching us taking up the family business. It gets fucking old.” Declan let out a long breath. “The lawyer jokes probably do, too.”
“Maybe if you made up some that were actually funny.”
But Declan didn’t even smile. “Do they really bother you?”
“I do have a sense of humor, you know.” Though at the moment Beck was damned if he could find it.
“You sure? Because it seems to have taken a vacation.”
There it was. “You’re saying I’m acting like a whiny little girl?”
“Well, I didn’t want to use those words, but yes.”
“I can work for other people, step back and assess. It’s just different when it’s your family. I’m wading through all this shit, all these lawsuits.” Beck vowed not to explain or lay this part on his brothers. They had enough with the house and everything else going on. But it felt right—good even—to share the burden, if only for a second. “Everyone blames Dad for everything.”
Declan scoffed. “You could probably add my name to that list.”
“I get the loss of money and valuables, though I’ll be damned if I can find an actual trail leading back to Dad since he died with exactly forty-three hundred dollars in his possession. But the hatred of him is like this living thing. He’s been dead a year yet people feed it to keep the hate alive.”
Declan bent over and scooped up the fallen envelope. “And you don’t believe people are entitled to their hate.”
More assumption-jumping. “I didn’t say that. I work with people on the wrong side of luck all the time. I get desperation and loss.”
“On one level.”
Now Declan sounded like Callen. “Excuse me?”
“Charlie’s victims weren’t unlucky. It was more than that.”
“I get it.”
“Do you? Because you continue to act like our father, the great Charlie Hanover, was somehow less culpable than he was.”
That wasn’t possible. At least not after Beck read through the victim statements and letters begging for help after Charlie’s scams ruined everything. But claims and stories so awful they ripped a hole through him were not the same thing as a chain of evidence. “I’m trying to deal with facts and not emotions.”
“Is that what you advise lawyers in these legal aid offices to do for their clients?”
This time Declan skipped the lawyer joke, but Beck felt the body blow just the same. “How exactly did this become all about me and my profession?”
Declan tapped the envelope. “You’re the one who wants to open this.”
Want was too weak a word. Beck had almost shredded the thing earlier. Anything to get in there, regardless of how pissed off Callen would be.
But Beck knew he would never have been able to follow through with it. Bottom line: the secret in that envelope didn’t belong to him. He needed to know about it so he could fix it, or at least weigh it as part of the overall picture he had of Charlie. No matter the excuses and the good reasons, Beck would never betray Callen that way.
Which left argument, harassing and asking as his best course for seeing what was inside. “Fine, I’ll pretend it’s not there.”
Declan shook his head. “Knowing you, I doubt it.”
Chapter Twelve
Sophie hung around at Shadow Hill fifteen minutes longer than she intended. Even now she stood half in the hallway and half in the kitchen doorway, straining to hear what was happening behind the closed doors to the television room.
She had a lunch date with Leah and her friend Mallory. Sophie kind of dreaded the girl time . . . and also kind of loved the idea of it. Each day at the house, Leah included Sophie in more family discussions. It left her twitchy and uncertain, and had her peeking around corners before entering a room, but there were parts of it Sophie loved. That sense of belonging, the idea of talking freely and knowing you were accepted. It was so refreshing and welcoming that she’d been smiling all morning.
Then there was the fact if Sophie failed to show up for lunch Leah would send out a posse. Sophie had no idea how a regular citizen could get a contempt hearing but Leah would figure out a way. She was clever like that.
The raised voices in the closed-off room had died down. When the doors rolled opened and Declan popped out, she shrank back into the kitchen and pretended she’d been in there working the whole time.
Seconds ticked by but Beck didn’t come out. Just Declan, and he jogged up the stairs instead of staying on the main floor.
The house stayed quiet and Beck still didn’t appear. The internal war in Sophie’s brain over looking for Beck versus getting out of there fast battled loud enough to crush every other intelligent thought.
A few more minutes passed. She knew because she watched each one tick by on the kitchen clock. Heard the beats in her head.
Stupidity won.
She tiptoed down the hall and stopped in the half-opened doorway. It didn’t take more than a second to find Beck. He stood with his palms tucked into his back jeans pockets as he stared out the French doors to the lawn and gray sky rolling by overhead.
She cleared her throat to keep from startling him. “You okay?”
“Sure.” He didn’t jump. Didn’t even turn around.
“Well, now I know you’re not.”
This time he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Care to explain that?”
“You’re not really a one-word-answer kind of guy.”
He blew out a long breath as he stared up at the beamed ceiling. “Do me a favor and refrain from the lawyer jokes. I need an hour moratorium from that bullshit.”
Okay, yeah. Something weird had occurred in this room. He’d returned to the curt responses he’d treated her to in her first days on the property.
She had no idea how to respond, so she went for neutral. “Seems like a little enough thing to ask.”
“My brothers might disagree.”
Ah, well now that sounded interesting. “That closed-door talk didn’t go well, did it?”
Beck made a slow turn to face her. “Excuse me?”
From the dead eyes to the pale face, his body telegraphed a flashing “keep out” sign. She’d wandered in there to check on him and he struck her as a guy who wanted to seethe in silence.
Her timing sucked . . . as usual.
She waved her hand as she took backward baby steps toward the door. “Forget I said anything. Not my business.”
“Stop.”
Her back smacked against the wall and the hit vibrated to her toes. So much for her sense of direction. She couldn’t even hit a wide-open doorway without checking behind her. “Now that sounds more like you.”
“That was still only one word.”
“A very loud word.” She held her hands wide apart to make her point.
“I owe you an apology.”
“No, it’s your house.” And she clearly was overstepping. “Besides, I get you’re not angry with me. Well, not this time.”
He stood up. “Sophie—”
Something about seeing him stretched to full height reminded her of their explosive kiss. The way his body wrapped around hers. The way he left.
There, that memory snapped her out of it.
A few blinks and her resolve slapped right back into place. “Though you should feel free to stop yelling at me.”
With each step he took across the room the color returned to his face and a smile curved his mouth. “I’m not even talking about this conversation.”
Well, crap. “Oh.”
“We have some unfinished business.”
&nbs
p; “You’re regretting the kiss then?” The words ripped from her but she plastered on a fake smile.
He froze in mid-step. “No way in hell I’m sorry about that.”
Relief whipped through her as quickly as the pain had. “That makes two of us.”
The walk . . . no, make that stalking, continued until he loomed over her again and their feet touched. She had the room’s wall behind her and a wall of Beck in front. This close, her breathing hitched in her chest and she had to ball her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to test her memory on how flat his stomach really was.
“I mean the bathroom scene a few days ago. I came to your house the other night about the locker-room talk but left before I could apologize. That’s not my usual style, to go too far like that, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Well, wasn’t that pretty. Shame it was misplaced. “We’re fine.”
“Are we?”
“I figured that scene was some kind of push-the-help test.”
His gaze searched her face. “You know what I said about you being the help.”
“Just a test then.” She didn’t even know what she was saying. Her brain screamed to touch him and her body was in full support of that fine plan.
“Right, because whatever was happening between us in that bathroom couldn’t possibly have been real.” His fingers went into her hair, brushing it back off her shoulder and threading through to the ends.
The room spun. “I’m not sure how to answer that in light of the kiss.”
“You could try honestly.” The backs of his fingers skimmed her cheek.
“You’re in an odd mood today.” And she couldn’t get her heartbeat to stop galloping.
“I’m talking about being naked and scaring you.”
Forget the spinning and running. This was a rollercoaster ride. Her stomach dipped and bounced. “You are determined to talk about this, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
A Simple Twist of Fate Page 11