Hard to Let Go (7 page)

Kat sighed as she pulled on the last of her clothes. Not knowing was the problem in a nutshell, wasn’t it? She fished her cell phone out of her back pocket and pressed the button to wake up the screen. Damn. She’d gone to let Eileen out forty-five minutes ago. That was going to be fun to explain.

She looked up to find Beckett watching her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. “Just seeing if Marz texted me,” she said. “He was going to grab some dinner and then work on my laptop before I logged into the network.”

Beckett nodded. Looked like they were back to his quiet routine. Though she supposed that was a step up from audibly cursing what had happened, like he did the last time.

“Look, Beckett, this was amazing. Both times, actually. But I guess I’m wondering—”

“If we should make it the last?”

Oh, sure.
Now
he talks.

And the words he’d decided to speak kinda dropped a rock inside her stomach. Ridiculous, given that she’d been about to suggest essentially the same exact thing. Hypocritical, much?

“Yeah. I guess so.” Kat shrugged and mentally pulled on her big girl panties. After all, how upset could she be? The man had just given her three orgasms. And, no doubt, this night would be the gift that would keep on giving, because those memories would be with her during many lonely nights to come. Ha. Pun so intended. “It’s just—”

He waved her off. “Nah. Say no more. Totally get it. Completely agree.” He crouched down to tie his boots.

Kat nodded. “Right. So, good.” She was just thinking what else to say when her phone buzzed in her hand. Even though she expected a text from Marz any time now, her belly still tightened. Because there was always the chance it would be another nastygram from Cole. Schooling her expression, she read the message and breathed a sigh of relief. She held it up so Beckett could see. “Looks like Marz is ready for me.”

“Yeah. You go ahead, then. I’ll follow in a few.” He rose to his full height. “That way, you know, no one will think we were together.”

Made sense. So then why did the idea of denying him feel kinda crappy? “Okay. Sure.”

For a moment, her feet wouldn’t move. And she realized it was because . . . she didn’t want to leave him. Stupid, really. It wasn’t like they were . . . anything more than two near-strangers who’d found an amazing sexual release with one another in the midst of a dire crisis.

“So. I’ll, uh, go. Now.” She thumbed over her shoulder. When he didn’t say anything, she turned and made for the door.

And had to fight back the urge to turn around and kiss him good-bye.

Chapter 7

A
fter rescuing poor Eileen from her long sojourn out back, Kat rushed up to the gym. Food would have to wait at this point. Though, after two crazy hot bouts of sex in the last few hours, she was starving.

Back in the gym, Kat just barely avoided getting scratched when Eileen spotted Cy and jerked out of her arms, barking and racing after the poor antisocial cat. Cy bolted toward the equipment rack and leapt onto the third shelf, high enough to be safe from the puppy, especially since having only one back leg made it difficult for Eileen to stand and try to reach him.

As if there wasn’t enough craziness around this place . . .

Shaking her head, Kat passed the makeshift table in the corner, filled mostly with Ravens, but also with Easy, Jenna, and Sara, too, and crossed the room. Marz, Nick, Becca¸ and Shane were all seated around Marz’s desk and looked up as a group as she approached.

“Hey, sorry,” Marz said. “We tried to wait for you to eat . . .”

“Yeah. Where’d you disappear to?” Nick asked.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “I took Eileen out and just needed a little time to myself.”

Nick frowned. “Kat, if you’re having second thoughts—”

“I’m not,” she said. “The last few days have been a lot. That’s all. I know I don’t have to tell you guys that.”

Her brother eyeballed her for a long moment, then gave a single, resigned nod.

“Got your machine squared away,” Marz said, pointing to the laptop on the edge of the table behind him. “I adjusted some settings to hide the physical location of the computer and hook you up to our proxy server, and I added a souped-up firewall. Just some precautions. Also networked you so you can save any documents to the local network as opposed to your machine.”

“Wow, okay. So, we’re all set?” she asked, her stomach going for a loop-the-loop. Because she was about to cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And that wasn’t nothing for a woman who’d built a life around the law.

Marz nodded, and the look on his and the others’ faces made it clear they knew this was a big deal, too.

Right, then. Better to do it quick, like yanking off a Band-Aid instead of pulling it off a little at a time. Kat sat, flipped open her laptop, logged in to the machine—and suddenly remember she didn’t have her key fob . . . and wasn’t sure where she’d left it. Fuck. Heat crawled up her neck. And
this
was exactly why the thing with Beckett couldn’t happen again. “Sorry,” she said. “I left my security token outside. So dumb.” She rose, fisting her hands so no one saw that they were shaking. From embarrassment. From anger. From nerves.

She was halfway across the gym when the door opened and Beckett walked in. “Hey,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze intense and loaded. “Found this. Any chance it’s yours?” The question was entirely for the benefit of the others, because she was almost certain she’d dropped the damn thing down in Hard Ink, where Beckett no doubt found it, thereby knowing it was hers.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks, Beckett,” she said. “Just realized I’d put it down somewhere.”

A whole silent conversation passed between them in one look, and she hoped he got the apology she tried to send him for being so careless.

With Nick and Marz watching her from the front and Beckett walking behind her, Kat felt under a spotlight as she returned to her computer.
Get your head in the game, Kat
. Right.

“Okay, second time’s a charm. I hope,” she said. And it was. She sailed into the virtual private network at Justice and from there into her own e-mail and files. Everyone gathered behind her, and a part of her wanted to tell them to go away and leave her to destroy her career on her own, thanks. But she got it. She had critical information they needed, and she couldn’t blame them for being curious about exactly what she had and eager to receive it.

“The system records which documents I’m opening or downloading, so I can’t copy the entirety of the investigation files without raising a whole lot of questions. I’ll start out with the document types we talked about and anything I’ve already downloaded for other purposes. That okay?” she said. “I can always go back in.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Marz said, standing next to her and watching her work.

“Don’t take any more chances than you have to, Kat,” Nick said in a low voice over her left shoulder.

Just be smart about it
.

Her mind replayed Beckett’s voice from earlier. But instead of annoying her, as it had at the time, it reassured her. Because she
was
being as smart about the files she was grabbing as she could. You know, within the confines of violating her professional ethics and security clearances.

Honestly, it was all rather anticlimactic. “Somehow, I thought breaking the law would be more exciting,” she said after saving the last of the files in question. She logged back out of her system and released a big breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

Well, that was that.

Hands landed on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. She looked up to find Nick standing right behind her and giving her a sad smile.

“Well, don’t keep everyone in suspense,” she said to him, then looked to Marz. “Open those bad boys up and let’s see how what I got might help.”

M
A
RZ RUBBED HIS
hands together and nearly dove into the chair in front of his computer. And as the others gathered around behind him, Beckett kept his gaze fixed on Kat’s face. If anyone knew what it looked like to put on a mask to hide what you were really feeling, it was him. And that woman was doing it. Right now.

Beckett didn’t like it one bit. Because it meant she was upset. Because it meant she was burying what she really felt inside—and he knew all the ways that could fuck you up. And because he couldn’t do one damn thing to make it better.

He also didn’t like it because it made his chest tight and uncomfortable, spilled a restlessness into his blood, and agitated the hell out of him to boot. It was all a helluva lot for someone whose usual status quo was somewhere in the neighborhood of numb.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll text Jeremy and Charlie and tell them to come over,” Kat said. “I’m sure they’d want to be here.” She ducked her head to focus on her phone.

Just then, most of the Ravens rose from the table on the far side of the room. Some left the gym, others made use of the weights, and one—the club’s president, Dare Kenyon—crossed to Marz’s desk.

Beckett had first met Dare when he’d brought the club to Hard Ink a few weeks before to help the team run simultaneous operations against the Church Gang. Dare had simply been a hired gun. Now, he and his guys were full-on, equal partners. And though Beckett might not have ever thought he’d say this about an outlaw motorcycle club, Dare’s guys were clearly motivated by a lot of the same values that Beckett and his teammates were—loyalty, justice, duty, honor, even if their take on that last one was sometimes a bit skewed.

Tall with longish brown hair, Dare managed to strike a look that was both rough around the edges and completely in control. The loyalty he commanded from his club seemed borne of respect, not fear, and Beckett had to admire that.

“What’s the word?” Dare asked, coming up to the far side of Marz’s desk. He wasn’t wearing his cut—the cutoff jacket that bore his club patches and identified him as president of the Raven Riders. None of the guys were. Given that the Ravens had some sort of tradition of protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves—women and children mostly—Dare had decided the rest of the club would be safer at their compound west of the city if they weren’t flying their colors. And damn if all of that didn’t give Beckett another reason to give these guys their due.

Nick stepped around and clasped Dare’s hand in greeting. “We picked up some new intel. Just getting our eyes on it now.”

“The guys are itching to see some justice for their brothers,” Dare said, his tone neutral, but his words full of threat, or promise. The Ravens were following the team’s lead
for now
, but the idea of a partnership meant they did so by choice. By the sound of it, that choice came with an expiration date defined by the Ravens’ need for vengeance. On the one hand, Beckett totally got that. On the other, it made them unpredictable. And unpredictability got people killed.

“That’s understood and appreciated,” Nick said. “We’re on it. I promise you that.”

Dare nodded, seemingly appeased. “All’s been quiet on the perimeter, but given the rain and fog, I’m beefing up our presence out there tonight. In case you’re wondering where everyone went.” Dare had made it clear that things would go better all the way around if he was the one giving his men orders, so after they’d all worked together to nail down basic needs and schedules, Nick had turned over a lot of the day-to-day to Dare to handle at his discretion.

“Need more bodies?” Nick asked.

“Not tonight, but we’ll need a little extra relief in the morning. Let my guys get some shut-eye.”

“Roger that,” Nick said, clasping Dare’s hand again.

Dare gave a general nod to the group, then turned away and caught up with some of the guys on the other side of the room. A few minutes later they all left together, once again reminding Beckett of how vital the Ravens’ assistance truly was. Their protection made it possible for the team to conduct their investigation the way it needed to be conducted.

As the Ravens left, Jeremy and Charlie crossed the gym and joined the group behind Marz.

“What’s up?” Jer asked.

“Kat got us some new files to work with,” Marz said. He pointed to the monitor. “This document is Seneka’s phone records. Friggin’ huge.”

Beckett followed Jeremy’s gaze as it landed on his sister. Her face was a careful neutral.

“It goes back about eighteen months,” Kat said. “So, it’s definitely not a light read.”

“Which means a better approach than just reading would be to search for specific phone numbers,” Marz said. “So, let’s start with that contact phone number Frank left us on the chip.”

Beckett stepped closer as Marz opened up a search function and typed in the number. The results returned quickly, marking dozens of instances of the appearance of that number making and receiving calls.

“Well, that’s moderately better, I guess,” Marz said. He clicked Next to scroll through all the results and sighed. “Hey, wait a minute. We know this contact number isn’t in service any longer because we called it, but look at this.” He pointed to the number’s last appearance. “The last time it was used—and, I’m guessing, about the time it went out of service—was less than a week after our team was ambushed.”

“Less than a week after Merritt died,” Beckett said, rubbing his jaw. “So the line of communication to his contact at WCE, whose number is a Seneka extension, dies with him.”

“Pretty much,” Nick said, looking from the monitor to Beckett to Kat. “Already useful.” He winked at her, and she gave him a small smile. Nothing that made Beckett think that mask wasn’t still in place, though.

“Let’s do a reverse look-up on some of the other numbers calling or being called by the contact number,” Charlie said, waking up the screen beside him and pulling up a website.

“My thoughts exactly,” Marz said, doing the same.

As the two men entered numbers, Nick grabbed a legal pad and wrote down the identifying information the search results returned. Many of the numbers connected to the kinds of results you’d expect from a defense contractor and security services provider—government agencies, military bases, some of Seneka’s subsidiary businesses.

Marz’s fingers froze on the keyboard. “Whoa. This goes to the switchboard at Chapman.”

Beckett, Nick, and Shane exchanged loaded looks from behind Marz. Chapman had been the forward operating base in Afghanistan, FOB in Army-speak, out of which they’d been running missions at the time of the ambush that ended their careers. Located in Khost, an Afghan province that bordered Pakistan, it was important for controlling trade routes out of the country and policing the still-Taliban-infested Paktia province to the north-northwest.

“Guess Merritt’s request to be transferred to SAD makes sense now,” Shane said.

“Fuckin’ A,” Nick said, raking his hand through his dark hair. FOB Chapman was also the headquarters for the CIA in Afghanistan. Merritt had requested a transfer to their paramilitary unit called, in typical CIA understated euphemism, the Special Activities Division. It appeared their commander had been trying to get clear of his team before his cover got blown. He hadn’t made it. And that shit had exploded in the faces of a lot of damn good men.

“Question is,” Beckett said, “whether calls to Chapman represent a call to Merritt, legit calls to the base for contract-related services, or calls to contractors stationed there.”

“Yeah,” Marz said. “But brick-by-brick the evidence that Seneka and WCE are the same is falling into place. Even if some holes still remain in the wall.”

“Fair enough,” Beckett said, his gaze ping-ponging between the screens of the computers Marz and Charlie worked on.