Hard to Let Go (16 page)

“I want to now. And I’d like your okay on that, because you’re my friend and my teammate.” Beckett crossed his arms.

For a long moment, they both stood there, positions mirroring one another, separated only by Marz’s desk, like some sort of Old West showdown.

“She’s my baby sister, Beckett. Jesus,” Nick finally said, planting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I pulled her pigtails and taught her how to box and remember that she had a stuffed elephant named Wuzzywoo that she carried with her everywhere.”

Beckett tilted his head, a sliver of hope daring to trickle into his chest. Because Nick wasn’t saying no. “Wuzzywoo? Really?” He glanced at Marz and Shane and then did a double take, because they were so close to exploding with laughter that their faces were red and Marz had tears pooling in his eyes.

“Yes,” Nick snapped. “Its goddamned name was Wuzzywoo!”

That was it. Their two asshole friends lost it. Just flat-out lost their minds. Marz laughed so hard he half laid down on his desk. Shane held his gut and braced his hands on his knees.

“Oh, God. Can’t . . . breathe,” Marz choked out. “He just . . . he just . . . came out and asked him . . .”

“I know . . .” Shane said, slapping his hand on the top of the desk.

Nick pointed at both of them. “You’re a fuckstick. And you’re a fuckstick.” Then he turned on Beckett. “And you better
not
be a fuckstick, or I will kick your ass until your children’s children can’t sit down. You got me?” Before Beckett had even inhaled to reply, Nick threw his hands out and loudly added, “Not that there better be any goddamned children. Fuck!”

More laughter from the peanut gallery.

Beckett bit back his smile. “Right. Don’t be a fuckstick. No children. Got it.”

Nick braced his hands on the back of a chair. “It really has to be
my
sister you decide to go and get the feels for?”

His smile finally won out. Nick wasn’t saying no. “Uh, that’s an affirmative.”

“I kinda wanna punch you right now,” Nick said, slamming the chair down against the floor to punctuate the point.

Better the chair than him. Beckett grinned. “I was sorta expecting that.”

“Goddamnit,” Nick said. “Are we done here?” He gestured at the desk area. Marz and Shane, who had mostly pulled themselves together, managed a nod. “Good. I need me some Sunshine. I’ll see you fuckers in the morning.” As the guys croaked out good-byes, Nick came around the desk and clasped Beckett’s hand. “For real, man. Don’t hurt her.”

“It’s the last thing I wanna do.”

Nick nodded and huffed. “Goddamnit.” And then he stalked away.

Beckett turned back to Marz and Shane. “Well, that went pretty good. Don’t ya think?”

Marz held out his hands. “Dude. You just blurted it the fuck out.”

Scratching his head, Beckett nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t really mean to do that.”

They both offered him congratulations, and then everyone agreed to break til the morning. And Beckett was down with that, because he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He almost floated to Kat’s room. Or he would’ve.
If
he floated. Which he definitely did not do. Ever.

He knocked, and when there was no answer, peeked inside. Empty. Next he tried the last door on the right—Jeremy’s room. Well, Jeremy’s and Charlie’s now.

“Come in,” came a voice from inside.

Beckett popped his head in and founded Jeremy and Charlie sitting sideways on the big bed, their backs against the dark green wall and a laptop on Charlie’s lap. Eileen lay in a black-and-tan ball between their legs. Nick must’ve brought her back over. “Seen Kat?”

Jeremy grinned and flicked his tongue at the piercing on the side of his bottom lip. “
You’re
the guy.”

“Uh . . .”

“You’re the lucky guy. I knew it. I knew she had something going on.” Jeremy tapped Charlie twice on the leg and pointed at Beckett. “I knew it.”

Charlie chuckled. “Sorry. Jer’s been ‘on the case,’ ” he said, using air quotes. “For the past few days. Ya gotta let him gloat a little.”

Beckett shook his head, not sure what conversation they were having right now. “Yeah yeah, sure. But, uh, Kat?”

“She’s taking a shower,” Jeremy said, waggling his eyebrow. As Beckett retreated, Jeremy yelled, “We share a wall, so keep it down over there.”

Holy crap on a cracker, it was gonna be never-ending shit from here on out, wasn’t it? But then again, that seemed a small price to pay for getting Kat. Especially Kat in the shower. Kat, wet, in the shower.

He knocked twice on the hall bathroom door. No answer, but the spray of the water sounded out from the other side. He looked both ways and found the coast clear, so he ducked inside and locked the door, eager to tell her that Nick wasn’t going to kill him. At least, not today. And they hadn’t even needed Becca’s intervention.

Making quick work of getting undressed, Beckett dropped his clothes into a pile by the door. And then he pulled back the curtain and stepped in. “Mind some company?”

Kat spun, and her smile was immediate. She gave him a slow up and down perusal that said she liked what she saw. And damn if his body didn’t react to that, especially since he was perusing right back. “I don’t mind at all. This is a nice surprise.”

He stepped closer, the warm spray reaching over her petite shoulders to hit his stomach, his hardening cock, his legs. His gaze dragged up her curves, drinking in every gorgeous inch. If he’d thought her beautiful before, it was nothing compared to—

Dark marks on her arm. His gaze flicked to her other arm, where more dark marks—bruises—discolored her skin. He gently grasped her right wrist and lifted.

Kat’s eyes went wide and she tugged her hand away. “Beckett—”

“What. Is. That?” He studied the bruises long enough that they began to take shape . . . Fingerprints. Kat had fingerprint bruises on both arms. From . . . being grabbed? Beckett’s stomach dropped to the floor. His nightmare. His goddamned nightmare. He took a step back, his hand going to his forehead. “I . . .” He shook his head, half sure he was gonna throw up. He’d grabbed her so hard that he’d bruised her? Jesus, he was a fucking animal. And he thought he actually had a chance with her. He thought he could actually deserve her.

He really wasn’t any better than his damn father.

Beckett was out of the shower in an instant. Not bothering to dry off, he tugged on his boxers and jeans, his head nearly spinning.

The water shut off behind him. “Beckett, wait. Look at me.”

Couldn’t. It made him a fucking coward. He knew it did. But he couldn’t look again at the evidence that he’d hurt her.

“I . . . I don’t understand,” she said, stepping out of the tub behind him.

“Me neither. You told me it was nothing, Kat. You fucking told me—” He bit his tongue and shook his head, but he couldn’t keep it all in. He whirled on her and faced the damage he’d caused, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I grabbed you so hard in my
sleep
that I left bruises all over your arms. Why aren’t you fucking scared of me? You’re a smart goddamned woman. Use your head. I’m no good for you.”

She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, tucking it beneath her arms in a way that left the bruises exposed. “No, Beckett—”

“I swear, if you make an excuse for me right now, I will lose my mind.” He bent down and grabbed his T-shirt. Stuffed his arms and head through the holes.

Her expression was so damn sad it broke his heart. And he thought he’d felt pain before. Not even close. Not even close to losing something you never quite had. “I don’t have to, Beckett—”

“Good. Don’t.” He turned for the doorknob, but his fingers were fucking wet and wouldn’t grasp the lock.

She grabbed his arm. “Damnit, Beckett. It wasn’t you. Okay? It wasn’t you who grabbed me. You’re not the one who caused my bruises.”

Chapter 16

B
eckett froze. His mind. His body. His heart. All of it stopped cold.

He turned around to face her, his gaze looking over those bruises in a whole new way now. “What did you say?”

Eyes pleading, forehead furrowed with worry, she shook her head, sending water droplets from her wet hair down the pale, lovely skin of her chest. “You weren’t the one who did this,” she said. “Not you.”

Gently, so, so gently, he grasped her wrist and lifted her arm again. One dark fingerprint on the inside of the arm, two—no, three—on the outside. Same on the other side. A flash fire roared through his mind. “Was this a fucking Raven?” Because, who else could it be? None of the team would do this. Who did that leave?

A fast shake of her head. More droplets rushed down her skin. “No, no. No one here.” She dropped her gaze somewhere in between them, her expression pinched, like she was in pain.

Knock, knock.

“Are you two having sex in there?” came Jeremy’s voice from the other side of the door.

Kat’s shoulders sagged. “Come to my room with me?”

Beckett was nearly numb from the whiplash of emotions he’d experienced during the past few minutes. Terror, self-loathing, soul-deep disappointment, tempered relief, anger. Always, the anger. He managed a nod and turned and opened the door.

Jeremy pointed to the wet spots seeping through Beckett’s T-shirt. “Think you’re supposed to take the clothes off, there, big guy . . .” He frowned, his gaze ping-ponging between them as if he’d just noticed something was wrong.

Not wanting to risk saying something he shouldn’t, Beckett stalked by Jeremy without saying a word. But that didn’t stop him from hearing the conversation that took place behind him.

“What’s the matter?” Jeremy asked Kat.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice not at all convincing.

“Hey, what happened to your arm?”

Pacing inside her dark room, Beckett didn’t hear the answer to that, and he was glad. Because if she told Jeremy before she told him, he might just lose his mind.

A moment later she walked in, turned on the bedside lamp, and closed the door. “Mind if I take a minute to get dressed first?”

Beckett managed a head shake, his gaze glued to her as she dried herself off, slipped on a pair of pink satiny panties, and then pulled on a pair of black cotton pajama bottoms and a form-fitting emerald green tank top. Part of him wanted to go to her and warm her air-chilled skin with his. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she explained those marks. Not until she made him believe that he wasn’t responsible for them—and understand why she hadn’t mentioned someone hurting her before.

She whipped a brush through her hair until it lay smooth over her shoulders, the color of it almost black from the wetness. Then she walked up to him, took his hand, and guided him toward the bed.

He pulled his hand free. “Kat—”

“Come with me, Beckett,” she said, taking his hand again. When his feet remained planted, she looked him in the eye. “You need this. And so do I.”

He frowned, and his feet got unstuck real quick. He didn’t exactly understand what she meant by those words, but somehow they still resonated inside him. He followed her to the bed and watched her pull down the covers then climb to the middle. She turned to face him.

Beckett sat on the edge. Upright. Rigid. Stressed the fuck out.

Kat slipped in behind him, her knees around his hips, her arms around his chest. She laid her head on his upper back. “I’m sorry I let you think for even a second that you’d hurt me.” Her voice was soft and sad. “I didn’t mean to. I was just caught off guard.”

Grasping one of her hands, he pressed it more firmly to his chest. “I need to know, Kat,” he finally said.

She turned her head so her chin rested on his shoulder. “It was an ex-boyfriend. Who has been rather intent that we get back together.” She heaved a weary breath.

Beckett turned within the circle of her arms to face her, and her hands slipped away, coming to rest in her lap. “Cole,” he said, her words flooding back to him.
I should almost thank Cole for jump
— Realization smacked Beckett between the eyes. “He jumped you?”

She ducked her chin. “In the parking garage of my building. Came up behind me when I was going to unlock my car door. My hands were full, so I didn’t even manage to react at first. He pinned me to the wall by my car. I got him to let me go by promising I’d meet him that night to talk.”

He was gonna kill this guy. Whoever he was. Wherever he was. He was already dead and he didn’t even know it. “When?”

“Friday morning.”

Aw, hell.
That’s
why she came here. To get away from this asshole. And then what happened? First, Beckett pulled a gun on her. Second, she fell down the rabbit hole of their clusterfuck of a mission. “Shit,” he said.

“Yeah.”

His gaze dragged over her, taking in the downward cast of her eyes, her rounded shoulders, how tightly she clenched her hands together.
Get out of your own head, Murda. This isn’t about you
. Right. Releasing a deep breath, he took one of her hands between both of his. “Was that the only time?” When she didn’t answer right away, Beckett arched an eyebrow, and she must’ve seen on his face that he wasn’t going to let it go at that.

“It was the most obviously physical he’s ever gotten. One time he bumped into me in a bar and said it was an accident. But he did it so hard he nearly knocked me down. Another time, he came up behind me in a restaurant and put his arm around my neck like he was hugging me, but he squeezed enough that it hurt. He would do things like that—show up places where I was. It was always possible, since we ran in the same circles, but sometimes it just seemed too coincidental.”

“You tell anyone about this? Nick? Jeremy?” Beckett asked, though in his gut he knew the answer. He could see it on her beautiful face.

She shook her head. “Here’s the thing, Beckett. He’s a lawyer in another division at Justice. Which means we share an office, colleagues, friends. Shit like this happens to women sometimes, and you have to make a judgment call. Do you report the person and cause a big thing that everyone will remember forever, instead of remembering you primarily for the work you do? Or do you let it go, brush it off, and hope it goes away? Cole is nothing if not image-conscious, so, for a long time, I was betting on him cutting it out before he either embarrassed himself or pushed me too far.”

He got what she was saying. He really did. Didn’t mean he liked it one damn bit, though. He stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “And where does him jumping you in the garage of your home fall on that spectrum for you?”

Kat shrugged. “I filed for a temporary protective order before I left D.C. It finally got served today.”

Beckett made sure to gentle his voice. “What about pressing charges?”

“I hadn’t decided about that yet. Part of why I came here.”

A thought struck him, and it dropped a rock into his stomach. “Would he follow you here?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “I’m not sure if I ever even mentioned that Nick and Jeremy lived in Baltimore. And he won’t violate the restraining order. He’s smart enough to know the consequences aren’t worth it.”

His gut wasn’t nearly as certain as she seemed to be. From the little she’d described, the prick seemed to have all the makings of a stalker, right down to having a high-powered job he believed would protect him from the consequences of his own actions.

Beckett sighed. The conversation had chased away the terror and guilt he’d felt when he believed himself responsible, leaving him feeling even more drained than he had after talking to Emilie. But this seemed like the perfect time to implement something she told him he had to do—stop stuffing it down when something made him angry or caused him disappointment. He heaved a deep breath. “I have to say something.”

Kat lifted her eyes to him, like she knew what was coming. He didn’t like the sadness on her face one bit.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his lap. She curled into his chest, and it was the sweetest fucking thing. Sweet enough that he second-guessed himself on expressing his feelings. Easy to do since he really didn’t want to do it anyway. But he couldn’t. He’d promised Emilie he’d try and that he would report back with at least one example of when he’d done it. For fuck’s sake. Stroking Kat’s hair, he sighed and let the words fly. “I’m mad at you for not telling me about this, Kat. Maybe I don’t have a right to be mad—”

“You do, Beckett.” She pushed off his chest enough to meet his gaze. “You asked me why it freaked me out when you grabbed my arm. And you asked me about Cole. I had plenty of opportunities to tell you what was going on.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because, at the time, I didn’t really know what we were—if anything. I didn’t even think we liked each other.”

Beckett frowned, but he couldn’t deny that her words made a certain kind of sense. “Then why didn’t you at least tell Nick that you might be in trouble?”

Her gaze drifted down, and she drew an invisible design on his T-shirt with her finger. It tickled his skin beneath, but he missed her eyes. “Because I wasn’t here for five minutes when it became clear something was going on. Remember? I’d just gotten here when I ran into you in the stairwell, and Nick was about to walk out the door to go to Emilie’s house. After you and the others left for Annapolis, I spent the day watching Nick and Jeremy disguise the building to mitigate against a possible attack.” She shook her head and dropped her hand. “My problems seemed . . . really minor compared to all that. I figured knowing that some asshole had gotten handsy with me was the last thing Nick needed to be dealing with. And I’d filed for the restraining order . . .” She shrugged.

That was totally Kat. In the time he’d known her, she’d risked her life and her career for her brother and his friends. It didn’t surprise him to hear she’d put what Nick needed in front of herself. He dragged his fingertips down her arm, just barely caressing the marks on her skin. “Does it hurt?”

Finally, she looked at him. “Only if I bump it.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, Angel.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her in tight. “I’m sorry, too.”

A fast shake of her head against his. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I do. I totally flipped out on you. Again.” Beckett sighed. “Clearly, one session with Emilie isn’t gonna do the job, huh?”

Hands holding the back of his neck, she pulled away and met his gaze. “How’d that go?”

Beckett gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Eh. It sucked ass.”

Kat smiled and her eyes brightened.

And, God, how he loved putting a smile on this woman’s face.

“I’m proud of you.” Her fingers caressed his hair.

Man, hearing her say that lit him up inside, too. “Yeah?”

She nodded, and then she yawned until her eyes watered.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. Given that they were both up in the middle of the night, neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before.

“Stay with me?”

That sounded like fucking heaven. “Sure,” he said.

She slipped into the middle of the bed as Beckett untied his boots and toed them off. Next went his shirt. “I usually sleep naked. That a problem?” he asked.

Behind him, Kat chuckled. “I can’t imagine any woman in her right mind finding that to be a problem.”

He grinned over his shoulder. “I don’t care what any other woman thinks.”

She propped her head up on her hand, a big smile on her face. “Well, I don’t mind you naked, Beckett. Not at all.”

Chuckling, he lost the jeans and climbed in next to her. Jesus, the fact that he could feel humor after how bad he’d felt in the bathroom not long before was a minor miracle.

“What’s the tattoo on your back say?” she asked.

He sat back up enough for her to see it. “The way you’re reading it right now, it says ‘Strength.’ But it’s an ambigram. If you read it upside down it says ‘Struggle.’ ”

Pushing up onto her knees, she craned her neck. “Oh, my God. That is so cool.” She traced her fingers over the letters, sending heat into his blood. Sitting back, her gaze scanned over his shoulder. “And what’s this one about?”

Beckett glanced down at his left shoulder to where a series of black and silver circles and slashing lines covered his skin in a tribal tattoo. “It’s kind of like a piece of armor.”

“I see that,” she said, her fingers teasing over his skin. Down his chest, his stomach, his hip. Against his belly, his cock hardened. “And these?” Her fingers stroked at the marks on his hip.

His gut clenched, but he was done holding back. Or, at least, he was gonna try to be better about it. He heaved a deep breath. “One mark for each life I know I’ve taken. I’m missing four from the day we rescued Emilie from the Church Gang’s storage facility.”

She stared at him a long moment, long enough that he was sure the information had bothered her. And why wouldn’t it? She dragged her fingers over the hash marks. “Your body is so beautiful, Beckett.”

If she’d have flipped him over her back again, it would’ve surprised him less. How the
hell
had she come to that conclusion given what she was touching? He shook his head. “No.”