Beckett laughed as he straightened on his knees and threaded his hand through the hair at the base of her neck. “You got a deal.”
* * *
HE WANTED THEM to have another chance. To be a family.
Raleigh slipped from the bed, the hardwood floor cold under her bare feet as she reached for her discarded clothing a few feet away. They’d spent nearly the entire day talking, debating baby names, imagining what a combination of the two of them would look like, and she stretched all the stiff muscles she’d forgotten existed. Her stitches tugged at the fresh gauze he’d taped over her side, and she stopped short of straining the wound farther. It’d been a long time since she’d felt much of anything, but she felt this. Whatever this was between her and Beckett. The tightness in her chest had lightened. It was easier to breathe. They’d been together for six months before the FBI had arrested her, but the connection they’d shared over the past few days somehow seemed different. Stronger. Changed.
What that meant for the future—if they had one as anything more than coparents—she didn’t know, but after everything that’d happened, she was willing to find out. As much pain and hurt she and Beckett had caused one another, they’d agreed on one thing from the beginning: giving their daughter the life she deserved. Most of all she deserved two parents who would always be there for her, always love her, no matter what. Hypothetically, if those parents lived together in the same home, even loved each other, their baby could have a better shot at happiness.
Studying him from over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but smile at the idea of waking up to this sight every morning, just as she’d imagined back at the ranch. The only thing missing was the crib that would be positioned nearby in a short few months. Everything else she needed was right in front of her. The smile weakened.
She’d envisioned it so many times after her arrest, but that deep-seated part of her still clung to the fear Beckett would be there for all the appointments and everything that came with preparing to give birth, not for her but for their daughter. Which, honestly, she should be grateful for. There were so many children orphaned by mothers who hadn’t made it through the birthing process because the fathers weren’t around to take responsibility. So many babies growing up in foster care as she and her brother had. She’d believed him when he’d promised to always be there for them. Because this was his baby, too. He was the kind of man to do whatever it took to ensure their daughter was loved, but he’d promised her the same thing before she’d been arrested. Now she was on the run.
Raleigh clung to her side as she stood, midafternoon sunlight gliding across her skin. Soon, they’d clear her name of the embezzlement charges. She’d have to appear in court for fleeing federal custody, even though she’d been wrongly accused in the first place, but afterward they’d get the chance to move on with their lives. A deeper part of her, one she hadn’t dared investigate over these past three days, hoped that he’d meant together. Not as coparents, but as something more.
Her mouth watered as the craving for fresh fruit that’d woken her from her nap consumed her focus.
Padding down the stairs leading to the main floor, Raleigh ignored the colder temperatures on this level and headed for the fridge. Over the past few weeks her body temperature had been slowly climbing higher to the point she’d had to put the air conditioner in her aunt’s cabin at risk of freezing up. Cool air cascaded across her exposed skin as she focused on the container of fresh grapes on one shelf. “Your dad makes a mean waffle, but we’ve got the good stuff now, baby girl.”
An electronic ping registered from the small living room, which really only consisted of a modern-looking gray couch, a coffee table and barely any leg room. Popping the plastic grape container, Raleigh carried her snack toward the phone she’d taken from the shooter’s vehicle on the coffee table. She wrapped her fingers around the thin frame. The screen lit up again as she raised the phone. It vibrated in her hand. An incoming call, but not from Beckett’s contact list off his SIM card. The number wasn’t stored in his contacts, but Raleigh knew that number. She’d dialed it over a hundred times over the years. “Calvin?”
She dropped the container of grapes. Both the local police department and the US Marshals had reports from the EMTs at the scene that he’d lost too much blood in his house for him to survive. Or was this whoever’d attacked him? Whoever’d framed her for stealing all that money? The phone stopped vibrating. A notification for one missed call slid across the screen. A different-pitched ping reached her ears as a new message arrived. She couldn’t read it without entering Beckett’s password. Raleigh glanced up the stairs, listened for any kind of movement before swiping her thumb across the screen. She had to know.
The screen bled from black to a white background with five words highlighted in a blue bubble.
“Pick up the phone, Raleigh.” The thin metal frame vibrated again, startling her. Another incoming call from the same number. Her mouth dried. Hand shaking, she hit the green answer button on the screen and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Raleigh, thank goodness you’re okay.” A graveled exhalation filtered through the phone as her former business partner’s familiar voice nearly forced her to collapse in relief. “They haven’t gotten to you yet.”
“Calvin? I thought… They told me you were…” She turned toward the windows, looking out over the expanse of the trees and mountains. The cabin sat higher up the mountain, and she was afraid their connection wouldn’t last long. He’d been declared missing less than two days after his wife, Julia, had called the authorities when she’d found the blood in their home, and the local police hadn’t recovered a body. Calvin had to know the Marshals and the FBI were keeping up-to-date on his personal phone through phone records. They’d notice the call to this phone. They’d run the number and pinpoint where she was, who she was with. They couldn’t waste time. “Tell me you’re okay. All that blood at the scene—”
“I’m alive, but I barely made it out of my house. Your assistant, Emily, she was torturing me for information about another account, one the feds haven’t linked to the investigation, but I didn’t know anything. I only had what you’d shown me before the FBI showed up at the office.” His unsteady breathing pierced through the slight ringing in her ears. He was out of breath. Possibly injured. “After I escaped, I ran. I got rid of my credit cards and tried to stay off the radar. I’ve been staying at a motel outside of Portland, but I think I might’ve been followed. What the hell is going on? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe.” She’d done this. She’d brought him into this. Pressing one hand against the cool window, she forced herself to breathe through the heat climbing her neck. Cold worked down her arm and into the center of her chest. She’d ruined an innocent man’s life trying to uncover the truth to save her own. “Calvin, this is all my fault. They came after you because I showed you the evidence I’d uncovered concerning the missing donations. They couldn’t get to me while I was in federal custody, so they targeted you, and I’m so sorry. I’m going to fix it. I promise. I’m going to find the people who are doing this.”
“Raleigh, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Just be sure to watch your back. Don’t trust anyone. Understand? Especially the feds. Who knows how far this reaches?” Static preceded a loud thump on his side of the line. Calvin lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think they found me. Take care of yourself and remember what I said. Don’t trust anyone.”
The line died.
“Calvin?” Raleigh checked the screen. The timer had frozen. He’d hung up on her, and fear slithered through her. She called the number back, but it went straight to voice mail. Her heart rate hiked into dangerous territory as she tried again.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs, and she instantly deleted the record of her former business partner’s call and message. Calvin had been targeted because of her, which meant someone had intel that she’d reached ou
t to him in the first place. “Raleigh? I thought I heard you talking to someone. Everything okay?”
Don’t trust anyone. Especially the feds. Calvin’s warning played over and over in the back of her mind as she faced Beckett. She’d known and worked with Calvin Dailey for years. Not just within the foundation but personally. She had no reason not to trust him. They were still in danger, and if he was sure he was being followed back to wherever he’d been hiding, she had to keep her guard up, too. Because Calvin was right. They didn’t know how far the corruption within the foundation extended, and she wasn’t going to put his life—or his family’s lives—any more at risk than she already had. Her gut clenched. Which meant, as much as she hated the idea, she couldn’t tell the US marshal standing in front of her Calvin was still alive. At least, not until they found whoever was behind the threat to Calvin’s and her lives. She tried to school her expression, the phone still in her hand, but even she could tell her smile was forced. “I’m fine.”
“The grapes scattered across the entire floor say otherwise.” Suspicion played across his expression, and her heart sank toward her stomach. He was one of the best marshals in the state. Reliable, cautious, supportive. The second she committed to keeping him in the dark, she’d destroy any kind of relationship they’d rebuilt, but Calvin’s life had been put in danger because of her. It would be again if she exposed the fact her former business partner was still alive. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him. Or Beckett.
“Funny story. The baby craves fresh fruit almost constantly, so I came downstairs to get a snack, and I couldn’t find the remote for the TV, so I picked up your phone.” Half-truths were the best kind of lies. More believable. She slid her hand over her stomach for reassurance she was doing the right thing. Instead, a hint of the numbness Beckett had helped dissolve closed in. “Turns out I’m not so great at the words game as I thought. I may have lost my temper and the game to someone named Watson.”
She was taking a shot in the dark. That was the other deputy marshal on his team, wasn’t it?
“I’ve been close to deleting that game a dozen times because of him. I swear the bastard has the entire English dictionary memorized.” A smile pulled the lips she’d been kissing less than a few hours ago thin. He closed the space between them, sliding warm hands down her arms, and relief coursed through her. Beckett took the phone from her hand and set it back on the table before heading toward the fridge. “Come on. I’ll make you a proper snack. Anything you and the baby want.”
She eyed the phone as she followed him into the kitchen. “Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There had to be something in the FBI’s reports they could use.
Beckett used the trackpad on Reed’s laptop to scroll through the FBI’s and Portland Police Bureau’s investigation files. Interviews of anyone who had access to the donation funds, including Emily Cline, witness statements from the foundation’s financial services division, bank account and routing numbers, evidence logs from the scene at Calvin Dailey’s home and lists of documents taken off the foundation’s servers—it was all here.
It all pointed to Raleigh as the primary suspect.
Whoever’d set this entire game in motion had covered their bases. The feds’ case had practically been gift wrapped for them with a damn bow and a silver platter, but Beckett wouldn’t let them win. Raleigh was innocent. The proof was in the bullet wound in his shoulder, the stab wound in his thigh and the piece of shrapnel in her side. Emily Cline had been hired by whoever’d taken that money to tie up loose ends. That’d included the mother of his child. It was a miracle they’d gotten out of there alive, but the nightmare wasn’t over. Not until they uncovered who’d framed her for embezzling those funds. Until then he’d make damn sure they never got another shot at her.
The sun dipped behind the surrounding mountains and cast rays of pink and orange across the main level of the cabin. Beckett slid his attention to the sleeping woman on the couch, the circles under her eyes lighter than a few days ago. They’d spent most of the afternoon talking about the baby, what symptoms Raleigh had been feeling up to this point, checking her wound. She’d even let him put his hand over her stomach in hopes he’d feel a kick. Didn’t work, but despite the resentment he’d wedged between them, he’d missed having someone this close, someone he could trust. Damn, if he were being honest with himself, he’d simply missed her. Her fight, her drive, her dedication to make any given moment more awkward between them. A short laugh burst from his chest, but quickly died as reality set in. Only problem with disappearing into the bubble they’d created together was it didn’t stop the real world from going on, and it wouldn’t solve this case.
But he would. For her, for their family and their future. Because no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, she’d gotten under his skin.
Beckett turned back to the laptop and started where this had all begun. The foundation’s accounts. According to Raleigh, nearly twenty people had access to that money, and he’d dig into every single one of them until he got a hit. He paged through the statements collected at the beginning of the investigation, then checked the real-time balances of the accounts and leaned away from the computer.
“That can’t be right.” All of the affected accounts had been frozen the moment the FBI caught wind funds were missing. The entire foundation had been shut down from operating as long as the case was ongoing. So why was there a difference between the account statement logged four months ago and the current funds in the account? None of that money should’ve been accessible. He clicked through to the transfer history, noting the user ID below each amount moved from the account. Dozens of transfers leading up to Raleigh’s arrest, all totaling one penny short of ten thousand dollars, the threshold unflagged by the federal government, but the last transfer—the largest of them all—had been made one day after Raleigh’s arrest. Before the bank had frozen the accounts on the feds’ order. Only she couldn’t have made that transfer while she’d been in FBI custody. He grabbed his phone and used the calculator app, subtracting the difference between the original statements and the current balances. His low whistle pierced through the silence. One million dollars had gone missing the day after the accounts had been frozen, in addition to the original fifty-point-five million.
He could take this to the district attorney. He could show the transfers—all of them—hadn’t been conducted by Raleigh but by someone else using her credentials, but it wasn’t hard evidence. The DA would argue she had someone working on the inside, or that Beckett’s judgment had been compromised. That she could’ve gotten access to a device without the feds knowing, or any number of valid variables. The sight of her on his phone as he’d come downstairs a few hours ago flashed across his memory, but he pushed that theory into the small black box at the back of his mind. She didn’t have anyone on the inside. She wasn’t transferring funds out of her own charity’s accounts, and his judgment hadn’t been compromised. He knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of. Beckett paged through the more recent statements. The money had to have gone somewhere, to another account the feds hadn’t flagged. All he had to do was find the leak, and this would be over.
“You figured out there’s more money missing.” Movement pulled him from focus as Raleigh pushed upright in his peripheral vision, one hand on her side, but she refused to let her expression show how much pain she was in, and his gut tightened. Always out to impress, to prove she was the strongest.
“Have you suddenly developed the ability to read my mind?” He pressed back into the bar-stool cushion and ran a hand through his hair as frustration took hold. Nobody could move that much money without tipping off the executives or the FBI, considering Raleigh’s arrest had put the entire foundation under the microscope. There had to be a reason it hadn’t been flagged. “Or is it some kind of sixth sense that comes with being pregnant?”
/>
“Maybe it’s Reed’s shirt giving me extra abilities.” Her laugh resonated through him as she slid one hand across his shoulders. The scrape of her nails across his skin raised the hairs on the back of his neck, eliciting remnants of the electricity they’d shared during that kiss back at the ranch. Raleigh studied the laptop’s screen. “I saw the difference in the statements a few weeks after my arrest. IT was supposed to cut off my access, and for a while I think they had, but then I saw a single transfer notification sitting in my email when I logged in a few weeks ago. Someone had turned my access back on and had used it to make one more transfer after my arrest. And to make it look like I was the one who’d done it.”
Clear green eyes connected with his as she leaned into him. Her voice hollowed, and it took everything in him not to give in to his explosive need for her bubbling to the surface. “When Emily had me tied to that chair in the barn, she confirmed my suspicion there’d been additional funds funneled out of the accounts into one the feds hadn’t flagged yet, but at the time, the only thing I could focus on was you. I didn’t know if you were alive, if you were dead, what the hell I’d gotten you into. I’ve already lost everyone I care about, Beckett. I didn’t want to lose you, too. Not again.”
“Hey, hey, listen to me.” Beckett stood, pulling her in to his chest. Right where she belonged. A perfect fit against him. As though she’d been specifically made to fill the hole he’d been living with nearly his entire life. She hooked both arms under his, caging him between her elbows. Her vanilla scent tickled the back of his throat, and he breathed her in with every last ounce of spare room he had in his lungs, making her part of him. Forever. As he wrapped her in his arms, the world—his sense of justice, integrity, service, everything he thought he’d been standing for all these years—crashed down around him. Even at the threat of torture and pain from a malicious killer, his fugitive had put herself at risk. For him. Damn it all to hell, he loved her for it. Was in love with her. “You didn’t get me into this, remember? I came after you. I made the choice to see this through until the end, and we’re not done yet. We’ve survived this long. You, me and our baby. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”
Harlequin Intrigue January 2021 - Box Set 2 of 2 Page 33