by Katee Robert
“I’m not going to murder him.” Frank sighed and shook his head. “But I am going to drive that erectile dysfunction commercial on four wheels into the nearest compound and see it compressed into a tiny cube.”
Beckett raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about Corvettes.”
“It’s not Corvettes, Beck. It’s the type of people who drive them.” Frank’s expression stayed serious. “I’m glad you’re good.”
“Day’s not over yet.”
“Heading to Kingdom Corp?”
“Yep.” He glanced back at the Corvette, but Walter hadn’t moved. “Call me when you’re back.”
“Will do.”
It took every ounce of willpower to keep his walk to the passenger side of the Audi relatively normal. He sank into the bucket seat and exhaled. “Hey.”
“Hey. That’s all you have to say to me?” Samara slammed the door and gunned the engine, backing up so fast Frank had to move quickly to avoid spraying gravel. “I thought you were going to be hurt, Beckett. I thought you could die.” She kept her arm over the back of his seat, her narrowed eyes on the window as she expertly drove the Audi backward along the narrow road. “I realized Lydia called the meeting to ensure I wasn’t with you when you met with Walter and it scared the shit out of me, and then we show up in time to see you slumped over and maybe unconscious and…”
He put his hand over her knee. “I’m okay, Samara. You’re okay.”
“Not through lack of trying,” she snapped. They whipped around a curve and she used the minuscule shoulder on the road to turn around so they were driving the correct way. Only then did she exhale slowly. “Damn it, Beckett. I love you. I thought our last words might have been a fight and that I just found you only to lose you and…”
He waited for her to stop at the edge of the paved road and leaned over to kiss her. He kept it soft and sweet and reassuring. “We’re okay.”
A sigh that he felt more than heard. “It’s not over yet, is it?”
“No.” He sat back. “Drop me at Kingdom Corp. My aunt and I are past due for a conversation.”
Samara looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “It’s funny—the way you just said that made it sound like I’d drop you at the door and mosey my way on to safety while you battle that dragon alone.” She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Not a chance, Beckett. You’re barely standing on your own right now, though you get points for bravado. If you need to talk to her without witnesses, then I’ll respect that, but I will be right outside that room and ready to ride to your rescue again.”
“I just saved myself, woman.”
“Was that what happened?” Her breathy laugh was more nerves than humor. “It sure as hell seemed like you let a man drive you out into the middle of nowhere with every intent of murdering you.”
He touched his phone, the reassuring weight a steady reminder that at least it hadn’t been for nothing. “He killed my father. Maybe not directly, but he was the tool Lydia used to ensure Nathaniel got behind the wheel that night. Walter’s also behind everything from the will changing to destroying my apartment.”
“Shit,” she breathed. Samara took one hand off the wheel and reached over to lace her fingers with his. “What happens now?”
He’d spent enough time thinking about it while Walter drove. “I sent him away. If we went to court, he might go down, but ultimately my father was the one driving. Both the arson and the breaking and entering were admitted to verbally, but as yet there’s no evidence to tie him to it. Going to the police isn’t an option.” When she didn’t argue, he laid it all out there—the exile, the timeline. Everything.
Samara nodded when he finished. “He’s going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder as a paranoid mess.”
“Good.”
“Exactly what he deserves.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, Beckett.”
He brought their clasped hands up and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for riding to my rescue.” He grinned, mostly to reassure her. “This will make for one hell of a story to tell the grandkids one day.”
She arched her brows. “Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”
He settled back in his seat. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
“We’ll talk after I deal with Lydia.”
This time, her laugh was almost normal. “God, you’re out of control.”
She was right that it was too soon to talk about things like that, but he didn’t want to think too hard about what came next until they were there. He wanted this quiet moment with Samara, separated from the rest of the world by the confines of the car. “Did you get my note?”
“The one about dinner tonight?”
“Yeah.” A headache bloomed into being right between his eyes. Probably the aftereffects of the drug. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help in the least. “I’m sorry we fought this morning. I still think you made a choice out of pride, but I did, too.”
“You were right. About Lydia. I didn’t believe you until it was almost too late, and even then I almost made the wrong choice.”
That roused him. Beckett opened his eyes. “What choice?”
“She fired me.” Samara didn’t take her attention away from the road. She sighed. “Sorry. You’re trying to distract us both from what’s coming next, and I’m just determined to throw us back into it, aren’t I?”
They hit the city limits and their progress slowed along with traffic. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it only made his headache worse. “It’s almost over.”
“We just have to survive it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samara purposefully parked the car several blocks from the Kingdom Corp building. She recognized the look in Beckett’s dark eyes—if he had a chance, he’d try to keep her out of this the same way Frank had commanded her to sit in the car. She’d listened to Frank because that situation was clearly beyond her skill set. This wasn’t.
She shut off the car and turned to him. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
She watched him closely as he climbed to his feet, but all evidence that he hadn’t been at full health an hour ago was gone. He didn’t shake or lean, and his pupils were normal. Beckett caught her looking and gave a grim smile. “Do I pass inspection?”
She wanted to say no. To tell him that he definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes and to take a vacation that would get him the hell out of Houston for a while. Samara didn’t say any of it. Every distraction she could offer was just that—a distraction. A Band-Aid on a problem that wasn’t going to go away without a direct confrontation. Even then, she didn’t see how he could combat Lydia’s entrenched position.
“Samara.” Beckett crossed to her in two large steps and pulled her into his arms. “I have it under control. I promise.”
He’d said something to that effect before and ended up drugged and almost murdered. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest. This was it. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. “Let’s do this.”
He took her hand, maintaining contact as they turned and started for Kingdom Corp. Samara thought she was ready to face down Lydia, to see justice. But her emotions tangled through her in an indecipherable mess. Rage and sorrow and something akin to hope. She trusted Beckett. She trusted his plan. There was no other option.
What happens if we fail?
She didn’t know, and that scared her most of all.
Security met them at the door. Samara guided Beckett to a stop and lifted her chin. “Max. Jacob. Nice seeing you.”
The guards exchanged a look. Max cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mallick, but we’re under strict instructions to make sure you don’t trespass on the property.”
Damn you, Lydia. “I’m here to speak to Ms. King.”
Another loaded look between them. “We’re going to have to ask you to leave the premises. Immediately.”
&nbs
p; “For fuck’s sake, Max, I know your kids’ birthdays. And Jacob, who was it that made sure you were taken care of when you hurt your ankle falling down the stairs?”
Jacob wouldn’t meet her gaze. “With all due respect, Ms. Mallick, you aren’t with the company anymore.”
And that was all that mattered to them. Years of learning details about the various employees to create a better working space in Kingdom Corp and it was all shit the second she stepped out of line. So much waste. Her throat threatened to close and she swallowed hard. “I would think ten years of employment would grant me a single meeting.”
Max lowered his voice. “If you try to make a scene, we’ll be forced to call the police.”
Beckett finally spoke. “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you ring my aunt and let her know that Beckett and Samara are here and we’d be delighted to speak to the authorities about what she’s spent the last week up to—specifically my father.” He sounded charming and totally reasonable, and the two guards didn’t seem to know how to deal with it. They’d prepared for a specific scenario—Samara trying to bully her way back into the building. They hadn’t planned on Beckett being reasonable. Smart man.
He pointed at the deep purple chairs situated near the doors. “Why don’t we wait there while you call up to her? I promise we won’t try to bum rush you.”
Max finally nodded. “Please don’t move from the couch.” He didn’t have any weapons on him aside from a pair of handcuffs, but Samara had little doubt that he’d use them as he deemed necessary.
Since getting wrestled to the floor and cuffed in the middle of the lobby wasn’t on her to-do list today, she let Beckett guide her to the couch. “What if she turns us away?”
“She won’t.”
She could do with some of his confidence right around then. Samara’s knee got to bouncing and she couldn’t force it still. So many things could go wrong. Why hadn’t she thought of those things while they were driving in here and parking? Lydia could refuse to see them. She could have them arrested for trespassing. She could have had them followed while they chased Walter down. If Samara and Frank could follow Walter and Beckett, there was no reason someone couldn’t have been following them.
Round and round her thoughts went, circling until she had to fight to keep from jumping to her feet and yelling for Beckett to run, to get as far from this poisonous place as he could before it seeped into him, too.
“Breathe.” He shifted closer, his thigh pressing the length of hers. His words were barely more than a whisper, designed not to carry beyond the two of them. Not even to the camera currently pointed at them. “Just breathe, Samara. You’re safe.”
She was no safer than he was.
Lydia was hardly the mob, but if she wanted to, she could have them smuggled out of here so she could follow through on her plan to remove Beckett—permanently.
“I have everything under control.” He covered her bouncing knee with his hand. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you. It’s her I don’t trust.” How quickly things had turned around. A week ago, she’d been a confident businesswoman who knew her place in the world and embraced it without reservation. She knew there was an ugly underside to her job, but she’d never thought it was this ugly. Questionable—and maybe a little illegal—activities were a far cry from murder.
Jacob walked to them, looking like he’d eaten something sour. “I’ll take you up.”
Beckett squeezed her knee and rose. He gave her a reassuring look that did nothing to calm the fears inside her clamoring that something terrible was about to happen. She kept her back straight and her chin lifted and tried to keep her fear off her face. It was all she was capable of at that point. Trust Beckett. Trust that he knows what he’s doing.
“Not too late for you to turn back,” he murmured.
And leave him to face this alone? “No. I’m going up.”
“Okay.”
Then they stepped into the elevator and it was too late to change her mind.
Beckett could feel little shakes working their way through Samara’s body, but she kept her eyes pinned on the back of the guard in front of them. He’d hedged his bets as best he could going into this confrontation, but despite his reassurances, he didn’t know beyond a shadow of a doubt that things would play out like he’d planned.
The elevator doors opened and they followed the security guard into the hallway. It didn’t look any different from the last time Beckett had been there, but it felt different. Menacing. Cold. Filled with the promise of violence.
The guard—Jacob—stepped aside and positioned himself with his back to the wall next to Lydia’s office door. “Go ahead.” He didn’t have a weapon on him, but he had the feel of a solider protecting his commanding officer.
Beckett touched the small of Samara’s back and they walked through the door together. Lydia sat behind her desk, looking every inch a queen in her white pantsuit, flanked on either side by Journey and Anderson. Journey looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and he had a moment of regret that he might be the cause of it with all the government-contract bullshit. On the other side, Anderson was her polar opposite, from his blue eyes and dark hair right down to how well rested and alert he looked. His suit was perfectly unwrinkled, and if he’d been on a plane that day, there was no evidence of it.
He came.
No time for relief—not yet. He had to play this exactly right.
Beckett shut the door behind them. He had no intention of sitting or getting comfortable. The only advantage he had was driving this dialogue from the first moment. He strode to the desk and leaned on its surface with his fists, imposing himself into her space. “Next time you want someone dead, Lydia, you should send someone more capable than Walter Trissel. It may have worked for my father, but as you can see, I’m still among the living.”
Anderson’s eyes widened in recognition, the only outward reaction any of the three Kings had. Lydia sighed. “Wonderful, Beckett.” She clapped mockingly. “Very dramatic. Now, if you’re done wasting my time—”
“Let me tell you how this is going to go.” He leaned down, lowering his voice and getting in her face a little. “I’m going to offer you the same deal I gave Walter. You leave Houston, Texas, the country, and you don’t come back. You sign away Kingdom Corp to your children, release Thistledown Villa back to me, and take a small stipend to live off. And you never come back, Lydia.”
No emotion showed on her face, not even a flicker. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me on why I’m supposedly doing these things.”
“Because if you don’t, I’m taking this to the media.” He took out his phone and pressed the button to start the recording. He never took his eyes from her face as Walter named her, as he admitted to putting Nathaniel behind the wheel that night…Beckett fast-forwarded to where Walter outlined his plan to kill Beckett. He hit the button to stop it, leaving strained silence in its wake.
She tapped a red nail on her polished desk. “Ravings of a madman. It will never hold up in court.”
“It doesn’t have to. I’m not taking you to court, Aunt.” He spoke softly, almost gently. “I’m going to release it publicly and let things fall where they will. This might not be enough for a criminal conviction, but it’s more than enough to turn the public against you and create a scandal the likes of which you’ve never seen. You know as well as I do that scandals make business partners nervous. How long before your shareholders start abandoning Kingdom Corp in waves? You’ll lose key employees like rats from a sinking ship. Your contracts won’t be renewed. You’ll be left in this empty building, lamenting about the days when you were almost competition for Morningstar Enterprise.”
Something akin to panic took root in her hazel eyes. “You’re bluffing. You would never do that to your cousins.”
Beckett leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Anderson. Journey. You and your other two siblings are more than welcome to jobs at Morningstar. I can offer you comparab
le shares and salary matching what you’ve got now, in addition to the promise that any children you have will continue to hold positions within the company—as they should have before our family split.”
Journey’s jaw dropped, but Anderson just looked contemplative. Lydia shoved to her feet. “Don’t you dare.”
Beckett kept going. “If you’d come after my company legitimately, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But you resorted to murder, and just kept digging yourself deeper from there. You want your legacy to live on in Kingdom Corp? Then sign it over to your children and leave. Or stay and watch everything you’ve sacrificed for come down brick by brick.” He paused. “Like you wanted to do to me and Morningstar.”
She went pale. “Why even offer me a choice at all?”
“I’m not you. I won’t sink to your level.” And I know you’ll live the rest of your life in misery because you’ve been cut off from the only things that matter to you—your legacy and your children. Exile was crueler than death, crueler than grinding her company to dust. Lydia had proven herself more than capable of starting from scratch. If Kingdom Corp went under, she’d find a way forward. The only route to justice lay in the one he’d just spelled out for her. “Choose, Lydia. This is the only time I’m going to make this offer.”
He saw the exact moment she realized she had no recourse. He’d already emailed a copy of the recording to himself and Frank, so destroying his phone wouldn’t do anything. She could fight a criminal charge, but not a conviction of public opinion. She couldn’t even play on his honorable streak, because he’d offered his cousins a convenient way out.
“You bastard.”
“Not according to my mother.”
She curled her top lip. “That bitch—”
“That’s enough.” This from Samara where she’d stood as silent witness. She moved forward with eyes only for Lydia. “You’re outmaneuvered and you know it. Take his offer gracefully or don’t do it at all. I won’t stand here while you insult his dead mother. You’re better than that, Lydia.” She shook her head. “Or at least I thought you were. I thought you were better than a lot of things. Apparently I was wrong.”