Laura Kaye - Hard As It Gets

When she turned, he was right there. She tried to look away, but he grabbed her chin with his fingers. God, he wanted to kiss her, kiss away whatever had caused the sadness behind those baby blues. Emotion played over her face, like she didn’t know what to say or maybe was afraid to say anything at all. And, okay. He’d really just wanted her to know he was there for her. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment so he could breathe her sweetness in, then stepped away. He grabbed his plate and returned to his seat.

A few minutes later, she was delivering slices to everyone who’d asked for more and resuming her place beside Marz. “What is all that?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Equipment I might need.”

She blew out a breath and surveyed the group. “Whatever any of this costs, none of it is coming out of your pockets. If you say we need it, we’ll get it. And I’ll figure that part of it out.”

Nick frowned. He could guess what professional-grade computer and surveillance equipment might cost, and it wasn’t chump change. Besides, if his suspicions were right, they were getting as much out of this as she and Charlie were. Maybe more. “Becca—”

“No, I mean it. I have a decent savings tucked away. This is more than a good enough reason to use it.”

The men nodded, and Rixey let it go for now. He could tell in the looks they exchanged between themselves that she’d earned a notch of respect, first for addressing Marz’s amputation head-on, and then for this. Damn, there was just so much to admire about this woman.

“You got a place for me to set up shop, Rix?” Marz asked. “I’m going to need workspace for several computers and some equipment, lots of outlets, and internet access.”

Nick frowned, thinking the problem through, then nodded. “Probably not ideal, but I’ve got a gym across the hall. The whole back corner is totally open. It’s all wired for cable and internet, otherwise the space is rough.”

“Secure?”

“Completely.”

Marz shrugged. “I’m easy.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Easy said.

“Heard that about both of you,” Shane said.

Marz barked out a laugh. “Fucker.” His head whipped toward Becca. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I can handle some ‘fucks.’ ” And damn if she didn’t wink, knowing full well what she’d just said. Didn’t look his way, though.

“Well, fuck, then,” Marz said, grinning. The guys laughed. Rixey shifted in his seat, her words sending his brain in all kinds of directions it did not need to go. “All right. I just emailed this list to myself. So let’s go do some toy shopping and get this show on the road.”

“There it is,” Becca said, pointing over the front seat toward Charlie’s house. After nearly three hours of shopping, carting several thousand dollars’ worth of new equipment in, and helping Marz get everything relocated into the back corner of the gym, she, Nick, and Beckett had left Shane and Easy to help get his research station up and running while they’d headed out with the flyers. At least she had savings she could dip into. She’d tucked away most of her share of their father’s life insurance, plus she always added to her savings first when she got paid. Net result was a bigger-than-average rainy day fund. And this situation was the equivalent of a downpour. “Wait. Why are you—”

“Making sure no one’s watching the place,” Nick said, driving by the row house.

“Oh.” As she looked around, nothing appeared to be out of place or suspicious. It was a quiet, empty-feeling street in a run-down neighborhood. Despite the beautiful Saturday afternoon, no one was out walking a dog or playing or sitting on their stoop. Suddenly, the emptiness itself took on a sinister quality, and threat of danger lurked around every corner and behind every parked car. A shiver ran up her spine.

Two streets down, he turned and went around the block back to Charlie’s. He pulled to the curb a few doors down from the house and killed the engine.

Beckett got out of the passenger seat and adjusted it forward for her, even going so far as to offer her his hand.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing her bag and the flyers and briefly meeting his intense gaze. The guy was downright intimidating, truth be told. But then she remembered he’d held her hair while she’d thrown up . . . A man who’d do that couldn’t be all scary. “Let’s see if Charlie’s landlord is home now. He can let us in his place.”

“That’s fine,” Nick said. “Just, whatever you do, have one of us with you. We’re armed, and you’re not. No going off on your own.” Icy green eyes bored into her. At least he was looking at her and talking to her again. She still had no idea what had happened this morning, why he’d seemed so mad at her. What they’d shared had been amazing. The fact that he’d acted like he regretted it stung. Bad.

“I got it.” In any other situation, she might’ve bristled at his tone, but someone had tried to grab her, after all. Even if he’d been a jerk this morning, a part of her insisted he cared. Why else would he be willing to go to all this risk and trouble for her?

Then there was that moment by the sink. Seeing Marz so full of life despite everything that’d happened to him had overwhelmed her with joy and pride, despite the fact that she’d just met him. And then a stray thought had slithered through her brain. Why didn’t Dad survive, too? Why isn’t he here with me and these guys helping us figure this out? It’s not fair. She’d been so blindsided that tears had come to her eyes before she’d even realized she was going to cry. But no way had she wanted to break down in front of that group of men.

She hopped up the steps to Walt’s door and knocked. Just as she raised her hand to knock again, someone released the locks from the inside and pulled it open.

“Miss Becca?” he said, his light brown eyes flying from her to the two men behind her. His brow furrowed as his gaze settled on the bruise on her forehead. At least the goose egg had gone down. Now she was just a walking dull ache.

“Hi, Walt. I’m sorry to drop in on you without calling, but I wondered if we could come in for a few minutes and talk. About Charlie.” He eyeballed the guys again. “They’re my friends.”

“Yeah, okay. For you, Miss Becca. Come on in.”

She smiled and stepped into the foyer. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged and sighed, watching Nick and Beckett like a hawk as they filed into the outdated-but-neat living room. “I’m getting by. You find your brother yet?”

“No, but Nick and Beckett are helping me.” She made introductions and Walt shook their hands, still a little wary of them. “I’m going to hang these around,” she said, handing him a flyer. “We have to figure out where he went when he left here.”

“You cops?” he said, looking between the guys.

“No, sir,” Beckett said.

“They fought wi—”

“Becca,” Nick said sharply, cutting her off. She frowned at him, and he shook his head. “Sir, do you happen to know which cab company Charlie used? Was there one? Several?”

“Usually Yellow Cab,” Walt said, frowning. “Had ’em pick him up down the block at the convenience store. Never here.”

Becca’s heart leapt. Maybe a store clerk knew Charlie and would remember when they’d seen him. “That could be really helpful. Thank you. Would you be willing to look at a drawing for me?”

“I suppose. Of what?”

She handed him the sketch. “A man who tried to kidnap me yesterday.”

“What?” His eyes flew wide. This time, when he looked at Nick and Beckett, his expression was different, more open, like he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together and deciding he liked the picture they made. “That what happened to your forehead?”

“Yeah. Luckily, I got away.” Well, luck and the incredible, sexy guy standing behind her. Becca had no idea how she’d repay him when this was all over, but she knew she’d owe him big. “But between that incident and the fact that someone did to my house what they did to Charlie’s, I’m being extra careful. And we’re trying to figure out who this man might be.”

Walt held the picture some distance in front of him and looked down his nose studying it. “I don’t know him. I’m sorry.” He passed it back and pointed to the next sheet on her stack. “What’s that?”

“A tattoo he had on his arm. Mean anything to you?”

“No.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, contemplation clear in his expression. “You got copies of these you could leave with me? I could show them to my son. He knows a lot of people. Maybe . . .” He shrugged.

She didn’t know his son, but she wasn’t going to refuse help. “That would be great. I’d appreciate any help.”

Nick stepped closer. “Walt, have you seen anyone snooping around Charlie’s place? Any cars sitting and watching it? Anyone on the block not usually here?”

“No, and after what happened the other day, I’ve been keeping an eye out. But if y’all leave me your number, I’ll call if I see something. And when I hear from my son, too.”

“Just use that number,” Becca said, pointing to the reward flyer in his hands. “Right now, another friend named Derek is manning that phone. I’ll let him know to get in touch with me right away if you call.”

“All right,” Walt said.

“One last thing. Would you let us into Charlie’s apartment again?”

A few minutes later, they were down in Charlie’s dungeonlike space. Everything still looked just as it had the other day. She hung with Walt at the door while the guys did a methodical sweep through the place, checking for bugs, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nick called Marz and told him about the Yellow Cab lead and what kind of equipment was left in Charlie’s office, but apparently nothing useful remained that Marz could investigate. The visit was a bust. Nick and Beckett met her back at the door, and they left.