A Simple Twist of Fate

by HelenKay Dimon

  Her smile could have powered the house. “You won’t hear any complaints from me about Declan’s performance.”

  “I’m hoping not to hear anything about it.” Cal held up a hand. “So, feel free to skip the details.”

  Speaking of the three-story monstrosity was a much safer topic than Declan’s bedroom abilities. Beck dumped the thick file of signed documents on the table and stood there staring at them as they fanned out over the tabletop. “Well, in non-sex news, the house is out of foreclosure for now.”

  “That’s good.” Leah sat up but didn’t take her own chair. She fingered the paperwork. “It’s a shame the mortgage company thinks we should pay them every month.”

  Declan shifted, dropping his arms so they circled Leah loosely around the waist. “Thieves.”

  “Maybe Cal will cough up the money for those, too.” With his job, Beck wasn’t exactly sitting on a big pile of cash, but he did have some saved. Traveling around, not paying a mortgage or accumulating a lot of stuff, made it easier to have some savings.

  He pledged that and his ongoing salary to their lives at Shadow Hill. Declan and Leah had funds and offered them up to keep the house going until everyone except Leah, who already had one, could get settled in stable work positions.

  But Callen was the one who vowed to pay for the rehab work inside and out. Whatever his past crappy jobs were, they gave him options. Gave them all options.

  Cal reached over and grabbed a water bottle off the island. With a sharp twist he had it open and a third of the bottle gone in less than a minute. “I noticed you all waited to mention this ongoing mortgage plan until after I handed over a check and signed my name to documents.”

  Beck grabbed a bottle of his own. Something about Cal always drinking water had rubbed off and become a habit for Beck, too. “I’m not a complete dumb-ass.”

  “I’m not sure we’ve established that fact, but the check is appreciated.” Declan slipped a hand under Leah’s arm and closed the file.

  “We did get to see Kristin Accord right before going into the bank.” Not exactly a highlight but Beck figured it was better to get it out there.

  Leah sighed. “And I saw Walker Reeves right around that time.”

  “Looks like they’re both back in town.” Cal picked at the label on his bottle. “Isn’t that just fucking fantastic.”

  “I did find out that Kristin’s come to the house a few times and Sophie sent her away.” Leah dropped that little bomb then stopped talking.

  Beck thought that topic deserved a few more minutes of exploration. “She did what?”

  “Yeah, she’s protecting you guys.” Leah looked at Declan. “Told you I was right about her.”

  Beck blocked the annoyance over this Accord woman and the way the knot in his gut eased with the news about Sophie. He concentrated on the dual confrontations and tried to reason out what they meant. Yeah, seeing those two sucked but there was something here they shouldn’t let go. “Our stalkers showed up in town at the same time, which is pretty interesting.”

  “If you say so,” Cal said.

  “It’s not a big leap to connect them. One leaves and the other one goes. He comes back then she comes back. I’m sure there’s evidence out there beyond geographic coincidence linking them together.”

  “I say we don’t go looking for it,” Cal said.

  Declan’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I’ve had enough Kristin Accord for one day and enough looking over my shoulder to last a lifetime.” The chair creaked under Cal as he got up and threw the bottle in the recycling bin. Instead of circling back to the table, he headed for the doorway to the hall.

  And here Beck thought they’d stumbled on the only good news of the day—a lead in the Kristin and Reeves pieces. Now wasn’t really the time to avoid. “Where are you going?”

  “Shower. And I don’t need a chaperone.” Cal glanced at Declan and Leah. “Although you two might.”

  Declan looked up at Cal. “How about an attitude adjustment, can we get you one of those?”

  “See, I knew I shouldn’t have signed the check.” Cal smiled as he said it.

  It was a joke and all, but Beck wanted to end the odd day on a positive note since Cal’s duck-and-run plan suggested he’d had enough. “Cal?”

  He grabbed the doorframe and turned around. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for saving the house.” For not demanding an accounting or equal shares. Cal handed the money over without question—without even being asked—and Beck couldn’t find the right words to say how much that meant to them all.

  Cal shrugged. “I’m determined to be stuck with you three, so it was a no-brainer.” He took off while the words still rang in the quiet room.

  When Declan started to say something, Leah put a finger over his lips. She was up and off his lap a second later. Spinning around the corner, she stared in the general direction of Cal’s exit.

  “What’s going on?” Beck asked when he couldn’t take the subterfuge any longer.

  When she turned around again the color had drained from her face. Her gaze went between the two brothers. “Call your mom.”

  “What?” Declan asked. “Why?”

  “Kristin, the FBI guy—it’s all too convenient and the timing is a warning.” Leah took the seat next to Declan and put her hand over his. “You need to call her. She needs to get here. Now.”

  He stammered. “What exactly do I tell her?”

  “Tell her Kristin Accord is in town and wants to talk to Callen.”

  The moment Beck dreaded, the same one he chased after and wanted over for weeks, arrived with a thunk in his brain. Short of begging and threatening, he tried to avoid the big reveal and, instead, have the information come out when they all could take a breath and deal with it. Not during some big emergency as they were in now. He’d wanted to handle this before their lives spun out of control and the mixed look of pain and panic he saw now crossed Leah’s face.

  “This is about that damn envelope.” He said the words even though they all knew.

  “I thought it was better to ignore it,” Leah said. “I really did. You’ve all had so much garbage piled on you. I just wanted you to have a few weeks of peace.” She stared at her hands as Declan threaded his fingers through hers. “But clearly there are people skulking about who won’t let the secret go.”

  “I told you . . .” Beck wiped a hand over his face as he tried to grab ahold of the random thoughts running through his brain. “I thought you said whatever was in that stupid envelope wasn’t that bad.”

  It came out as accusatory and rougher than he intended thanks to the fury bubbling inside him. But he’d tried to warn them all this was coming. They denied and ignored and now Leah wanted to call in Mom. Beck couldn’t imagine a worse sign.

  “Hey, calm the hell down. She never said that.”

  Leah stopped Declan’s defense by touching his arm. “I said the news wasn’t life-threatening, which is a very different thing from being bad, but Beck’s right. I knew this could happen.”

  The only thing Beck wanted in the world right now was Sophie. Get in the car, drive over and just sit with her. Forget dinner and sex and everything else. He needed her voice. Her presence.

  But he had to deal with this mess first and that meant agreeing on a way forward. He stared at Declan. “What about your theory on us waiting and letting Cal handle this his own way?”

  “That was before the whole damn circus came to town.”

  “Really, guys.” Leah wrapped both of her hands around Declan’s one. “There isn’t a choice here. Cal needs to talk to your mom.”

  Repetition didn’t clear up the confusion. Beck thrived on being prepared and that meant knowing something about the contents of that envelope. “Why?”

  Leah sighed at him in her usual men-are-annoying-me way. “Stop pre
tending to be dense. I’m saying this because Cal needs to hear this news from her and not some stranger.”

  “Tell me this much.” Beck switched tactics. “Does mom know about the envelope?”

  “No, but she knows the general point of the contents. This impacts her and Cal. That’s what all of this is about.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Declan shoved his chair back and paced the area between the table and the sink.

  At least everyone acted as if they understood the danger loomed around them now. Beck guessed that qualified as progress. “Can I assume this disaster is somehow Charlie’s fault?”

  Leah closed her eyes and whispered her answer. “Of course.”

  All that anger and disappointment—hell, even the hate for Charlie—churning inside Beck boiled over, spewing and covering everything. He felt the heat travel through him as his brain begged to get to Sophie’s house.

  “Some days . . .” He couldn’t form the words even though they sat right there begging to be said.

  “You want to dig up dear ol’ Dad and beat the hell out of him?” Declan wrapped both hands around edge of the counter as if it were the only thing holding him up. “Yeah, get in line.”

  ***

  The doorbell chimed at six-thirty. Sophie froze while standing in the kitchen with her hand on the lid to the peanut butter jar. She didn’t have to give her body the once-over to know how little the tank top and oversized boxers hid. She’d dressed for toenail painting and still hovered at the dangerous edge of smearing the deep purple shade if she took anything off or tried to put anything on.

  Hair in a ponytail, bare feet and all, she headed to the door right as the pounding started. A quick peek through the peephole confirmed her fears. With a frantic look at the clocks in the family room and kitchen, verifying the time on all three she could see, she enjoyed a surge of satisfaction. She hadn’t lost it. None of them said seven.

  She threw open the door prepared to lecture Beck on his poor timing and getting what he deserved in terms of how crappy she looked. “You’re early.”

  He stood with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets and his body leaning in. “Hi.”

  The sunken cheeks and flat eyes killed whatever clever thing she might have said next. “Wow, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  She stepped back and ushered him inside with a tug on his blue polo shirt. Man, every shirt this guy had skimmed his waist and hung away from his trim hips. If he bent to the side or lifted his arms, she got a shot of tanned hottie skin. The look was so damn sexy she almost forgot about his dead tone and her pretty toenails.

  “Are you going to stick with that ‘I’m fine’ story?”

  “Sorry, frustrating afternoon.” He wiped a hand through his hair, brushing the longer strands off his face.

  It didn’t take one of his fancy degrees for her to know something bad had happened. Somewhere between their meeting outside the bank and now, his life had taken a weird turn. That was clear from his face. She refused to let her imagination go galloping off and assuming this was somehow her fault. Not yet.

  “You saw me this afternoon,” she pointed out.

  “You were the one bright spot. The only one, actually.” He just stood there with his hands at his sides. No follow-up flirting. No sexy touching. No smile.

  Whatever happened was really bad. Yet he took a second to charm her.

  He just got sexier every second, trouble and all.

  “Sweet-talker.” Despite her vow to play it cool and make him take the risks this time, she made the first move. She slipped in closer and sighed with relief when his arms wrapped around her waist and his fingers skimmed her lower back. “Now spill it.”

  “You know, when you first showed up at the house you were so quiet. You never disagreed. You just came in and smiled and—”

  She pressed two fingers against his lips and ignored the way her heart hiccupped when he took her hand and kissed her palm. “I have a confession about that.”

  He treated her to a dramatic women-are-so-difficult exhale. “I wonder if I’m ready to hear this.”

  “The whole wilting-flower thing was a bit of an act.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out.” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “When?”

  He kissed the inside of her wrist. “When you tongued me in the library.”

  The touch of his lips against her bare skin sent a tremble zinging through her in every direction. “Ah, yes. That.”

  “One of my favorite moments since moving to Sweetwater, by the way.”

  Much more of that and her heart would bounce right out of her chest. “Believe it or not, that little scene was unusual for me.”

  Not that she was afraid of sex. No, she welcomed it. With him. As soon as possible.

  Hence the painted toenails and shaved legs.

  “New or not, no complaints here.” He kissed her cheek. “In fact, I was wondering if there was any chance you wanted to try the seduction again.”

  This man was ninety percent temptation and ten percent frustration. Despite that face and body, she refused to start down this path only to get turned around again. “Before we get there you’re not going to ask me why or want to talk about secrets first?”

  “Honestly? I can’t take much more of that sort of thing today. I don’t want to analyze or think or hear any more news, even if it’s good.”

  Man, whatever happened threw him off his game. He wasn’t arguing or asking questions. This side of him worried her. It was so out of character. Normal for others but almost lifeless for him.

  She slipped her hand over his cheek and cupped her palm around his chin. “What do you want?”

  His gaze searched her face. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  Heat flared in his eyes as a kick of energy radiated off of him. “You.”

  Need battled with concern. When his fingers tightened against her shirt, clenched a handful at her back, it took all her control not to throw her arms around him and draw him close. “Are you sure you’re okay tonight?”

  “I think I will be in about ten seconds.”

  Her common sense went on the fritz. “I don’t—”

  “Then don’t.”

  His mouth covered hers, hot and desperate, as the electricity arcing between them whipped around the room. Lips against lips. Shallow breaths matching to frantic heartbeats. She sensed and smelled and felt every inch of him. His body wrapped around hers as her fingers tunneled into his hair.

  She couldn’t get close enough, taste enough.

  When he lifted his head, all signs of exhaustion had vanished. His body jumped to life and his erection pressed against her. He’d dropped the baggage he mentally dragged behind him up the stairs to her door and focused on her instead. The intense attention had her shaking. She felt deliciously hunted and wanted and ready to try anything.

  She tried to slow her breathing to keep from wandering into danger territory. If her heart thumped any harder it would burst out of her thin shirt. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  The words came out breathy as she said them against his mouth. She was stunned she could even form them. If he moved his hands, she’d drop to the floor. Bones and muscles turned to jelly when his mouth hit hers.

  It happened the first time. The response only intensified the second. Her only question was why they had waited this long to pull in this close.

  He pressed his forehead against hers as his chest lifted and fell on raspy breaths. “If you don’t want this—”

  She brushed her mouth over his once . . . twice. “Stop talking.”

  Then the need enveloped her. She felt swept up and knocked off her feet. His hands traveled all over her as his mouth fused with hers. She didn’t realize he’d guided them across the room until her back hit the w
all. With his fingers laced through hers and pressed by her head, his mouth toured her neck.

  He kissed her over and over. Firm lips and determined touches had her skin catching fire. He whispered about how pretty she was, about her smooth skin.

  When one hand left hers to slide down her body and hover at the elastic waist of her boxers, the room started to spin. His kisses went to her head and the brush of his fingertips against bare skin had her gulping in air.

  His hand disappeared into her shorts and kept going. The sight of his strong forearm buried underneath her clothes mirrored her fantasies. She opened her legs to give him room as his fingers tunneled past the band of her lacy bikini bottoms. One slipped over her, around her, making her wet as her hips lifted off the wall. She tried dragging him inside but he tortured her with long strokes and gentle rubbing until she soaked his hand.

  She couldn’t get him undressed fast enough. Frantic hands shoved the tee up his flat stomach and over his head. With the slide of cotton, her fingers lingered over his skin and toured his sleek muscles.

  His body left hers for the briefest second but then his hand came back. One long finger pressed inside her, in and out until her body moved in time with the plunging. It wasn’t enough. She needed all of him, hot and ready and deep inside her.

  Her hands went to his jeans and the button fumbled under her fingers. She cupped him with one palm through the rough denim, squeezing until his sharp intake of breath echoed in her ears. His lips found the top of her breasts as she eased the zipper down, letting the screech rip through the room.

  Through every touch and the crazy striptease that had them yanking clothes off and shoving them to the side, his finger stayed buried inside her, moving in and out, bringing her breathing to the brink.

  “I need these off.” She said the words as she kissed a line down his chest and pushed his jeans lower on his hips.

  “God, yes.”

  A final rational thought floated through her brain. “Condom?”

  He tugged her shorts and underwear over her hips. “Back pocket.”

  Then he was on his knees in front of her, dragging her clothing off and baring her lower half to his gaze. He ran a finger over her thin strip of hair covering her sex and leaned in to press a kiss against her. On the second dip of his head, he used his tongue. His fingers separated her as he licked.