by Laura Kaye
Beside her, Beckett’s muscles went rigid.
Kat’s hand flew to her heart. “Oh, my God.” Just days ago she’d sat less than ten feet away from that man in a coffee shop. And now he was dead?
The newscaster continued, “Police reported to the quiet upper Northwest D.C. neighborhood when area residents reported hearing gunfire. To repeat, police are confirming the apparent death by suicide of General Landon Kaine, revealed by the Washington Post just this morning as the mastermind behind an international drug smuggling conspiracy . . .”
“Jesus,” Beckett said, raking his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it.”
Kat shook her head. “I can’t either. It’s horrible.” She grasped his chin and nudged him to look at her. “But if Wexler and Kaine and Church are all dead now, then that means that you and Nick and the guys are all safe. All of us are. And I can’t feel bad about that.”
“No,” he said. “That’s nothing to feel bad about at all.”
Sighing, Kat pointed to the remote attached to Beckett’s side of the bed railing. “Can you turn the TV off? I don’t want the outside world in here right now. I just wanna be with you.”
“That right there is my dream come true, Kat.” He shifted and lifted his arm, inviting her to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. They were packed in the little bed like sardines, but it was warm and comfortable and exactly where she wanted to be.
“Thank you for helping my brother, Beckett. I love you so much,” Kat said, sleepiness softening her voice.
“Aw, Angel, I love you, too. Now, sleep,” he said, gently resting his head against hers.
“So bossy,” she whispered, and then she did exactly what he’d told her to do.
Epilogue
One week later . . .
“Uh, guys?” Marz called from his desk, his gaze glued to one of the security monitors. Everyone else, including Kat and Jeremy, who were both finally home from the hospital, was still finishing up lunch around the big table in the gym. Beckett was so glad to have Kat back at his side. And to be able to sleep in a bed wider than three feet. “We’ve got company.”
“Who is it?” Nick called, getting up from the table. The team had stayed together, still in defensive mode, until they received confirmation that the other members of Kaine and Wexler’s conspiracy had been picked up by the authorities. Afterward, the Ravens had gone home with the team’s undying gratitude and a standing offer to return the favor if ever they could.
Beckett rose, too.
“It’s Chen,” Marz said.
“I’ll go let him in,” Nick said, darting across the gym.
Beckett knew he should’ve put money on seeing the guy again. Question was, what the hell did he want? Had something gone wrong with the investigation? Did he need them to gather more evidence?
As was their habit whenever something work-related arose, everyone congregated around Marz’s desk. Nick returned a few minutes later, Chen at his side in navy pants and a light blue button-down. He carried an oversized briefcase in his hand.
“Gentlemen,” he said when he reached the desk. He took a moment to shake everyone’s hands. “I have some things for you.”
“Good things?” Nick asked, unleashing a chuckle around the room.
“I think so,” Chen said, opening his case. “I have good news and bad news.”
Beckett’s shoulders fell. And he didn’t think he was the only one. What now? He took Kat’s hand in his, and she gave him a wink.
“Let’s hear the bad news first,” Nick said, voice tight.
Chen nodded and scanned the group. “Okay. The bad news is that you cannot share any part of the following conversation with anyone outside this room.”
“About what?” Nick asked.
“For starters, this,” he said, pulling a stack of manila folders from his case. One by one he handed them to the five guys from the team.
Beckett flipped his open. The top sheet was a letter from the Secretary of Defense stamped Top Secret. Beckett could barely digest what it said, because all his eyes wanted to do was bounce around from one soul-healing phrase to another.
You suffered a grave injustice at the hands of someone who should’ve protected your trust, your honor, and your life . . .
Effective immediately, and backdated to your original separation from the military, your discharge type is now Honorable, qualifying you for all the rights, benefits, and privileges of veterans of the United States military . . .
Your service record and performance evaluations have been restored . . .
Heart racing in his chest, Beckett passed the letter to Kat and found his original, pre-ambush career records. The ones that hadn’t been doctored to support a characterization of dereliction of duty, a history of supposed grievances against their commander, and other behavioral infractions that helped build a case for discharge from the Army. It was like being given a second chance to live.
Beckett met Nick’s gaze, and they gave each other a nod. And Beckett could see in the other man’s eyes the same amazement and vindication that he felt, too. Marz, Shane, Easy—they all felt it as well. It was clear in their eyes and on their faces. Hugs and exclamations and a few tears greeted this news.
“Good news, for sure,” Nick said, his voice strained.
“I have more,” Chen said. “If I could please have Nick, Derek, Beckett, and Charlie step forward and form a line.”
Frowning, Beckett traded looks with the other three, but he did as he was asked.
“Me?” Charlie asked. “Really?”
Chen nodded and looked down at some papers in his hands. When the four of them stood before him, he began. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to welcome you to a long-overdue Purple Heart ceremony.” Gasps from around the room, and Beckett’s heart was suddenly a jackhammer in his chest. “The Purple Heart is an American decoration, the oldest military decoration in the world in present use, and the first American award made available to the common soldier. It was initially created as the Badge of Military Merit by one of the world’s most famed and best-loved heroes, General George Washington. The actual order included the phrase, ‘Let it be known, that he who wears the Military Order of the Purple Heart has given of his blood in defense of his homeland, and shall forever be revered by his fellow countrymen’ . . .”
Aw, hell. Beckett knew he wasn’t going to get through this without losing it. Christ, he never thought this day would come. Not for any of them. And it didn’t even matter that it wasn’t taking place in front of the Army brass or at some public gathering. A Purple Heart wasn’t a recognition that any soldier ever wanted, but for them, it represented a basic restoration of justice. And that’s what made it so damn meaningful.
Chen met each of their eyes as he continued. “The Purple Heart is awarded to members of the Armed Forces of the United States who are wounded by an instrument of war in the hands of the enemy, and posthumously to the next of kin in the name of those who are killed in action or die of wounds received in action. It is specifically a combat decoration.”
Beckett and Marz traded glances, and the glassiness in his best friend’s eyes was a real knock to Beckett’s own control over his emotions.
“It is my honor,” Chen said, “to recognize the following veteran service members of the Army Special Forces—Derek DiMarzio, Frank Merritt, posthumously, Beckett Murda, and Nicholas Rixey—for their heroic acts and exemplary service to our nation. Gentlemen, today you are joining an elite list of patriots who, throughout our nation’s history, have made incredible personal sacrifices in the name of freedom and democracy. The Purple Heart was originally described as ‘available to all, desired by none,’ and it speaks to the valor and sacrifice of those who wear this badge of honor. All four recipients are being honored for wounds received in Afghanistan while serving in the Army Special Forces. In addition to today’s honors, you should know that six additional members of your A-team will receive posthumous awards. Walker Axton, Carlos Escobal, Jake Harlow,
Colin Kemmerer, Marcus Rimes, and Eric Zane. We will never forget their sacrifices, and our thoughts and prayers go out to their loved ones.”
At the mention of Marcus’s name, Easy pressed his fist over his mouth. Marcus had been Easy’s best friend, and his death right in front of Easy’s eyes led to the combat-related guilt that still ate at Easy to this very day. Beckett looked to Shane next, and was glad to see he wasn’t the only one struggling to hold it together, because as Shane stood at attention, he wasn’t even trying to keep the silent tears from slipping from the corners of his eyes. Hell, there might not have been a dry eye in the whole place.
Chen pulled four brass frames and four square jewelry boxes from his briefcase. “Award recipients, the full orders, which I have here for each of you, detail your service, contributions, and sacrifices. By order of the President of the United States of America, the Purple Heart is awarded to Derek DiMarzio, Beckett Murda, and Nicholas Rixey, and to Frank Merritt, posthumously, for wounds received in action.”
One by one, Chen pinned the award on their chests, handed them their framed certificates, and shook their hands. Derek received his first, and seeing his best friend recognized for his incredible sacrifice lifted some of the guilt that Beckett had carried for the past year. Beckett received his next, then Nick, and then Charlie, on behalf of his father. Charlie seemed to hold it together pretty well until Chen pinned the heart and ribbon to his chest. Jeremy pulled a sobbing Charlie into his arms as Becca slipped the frame from his hands and rubbed his back.
And then it was over. Done. Cheers and hugs and handshakes all around.
Kat crossed to Beckett through the crowded room as quickly as she could, which wasn’t fast only a week after heart surgery. She gently hugged him and laid her head over his heart. “I’m so proud of you, Beckett.”
“I’m kinda proud of me, too,” he said. And he was, for maybe the first time in his life.
Chen stood just separate from the fray, that small, enigmatic smile he always wore on his face. “Whenever you’re ready, there’s more.”
Nick chuckled. “What else could there possibly be?”
“You might be surprised,” Chen said, winking. With Chen, they were pretty much always surprised. “So, given the awkwardness of your situation and the media circus that the revelations about Kaine have caused, the Army would like to offer reparations, but struggled for a way to do so without drawing undue attention. I came up with what I hope is a solution acceptable to each of you.” He passed out envelopes to the five team members and Charlie.
Beckett frowned as he peered inside and found a check . . . for one million dollars.
“Merritt had an account with twelve million dollars in it, and there were twelve team members impacted by Kaine’s actions. Each member—or his heirs—will receive an equal one-twelfth share,” Chen said.
Silence for a long moment. And then all hell broke loose.
“Holy shit,” Shane said, gray eyes wide.
Beckett shook his head. He needed no compensation beyond justice, and they were getting that. At long last. “I don’t want this.”
Shane nodded to Beckett. “I was never in this for the money.”
Easy stepped to the desk and laid his envelope on top of Chen’s case. “I would like mine to go to Rimes’s family.”
“Becca,” Charlie said. “Half of this is yours, of course, but I’m giving my half to Jeremy. For the building.”
“That’s right where this is going, too,” Nick said, holding up his envelope.
Chen held up his hands. “I’m not taking back any checks. At least not today. Think about it. Let it sink in. I suspect we’ll be in touch, because I have one more thing.”
“Holy crap,” Kat said, sinking into a chair. “I don’t think my heart can take any more.”
Everyone chuckled, but she was right. Each new revelation was more unbelievable than the last. At least this time, though, the revelations were all in their favor, rather than against. That was a nice fucking change of pace.
Pulling a legal-sized envelope from his case, Chen met the gaze of each of the men from the team. “The five of you did excellent work. Work this country needs done. Work that not many can do. In this envelope I have the details of an offer for the five of you to form a Top Secret task force, working with the full resources and support of the Company, to investigate similar instances of corruption in the U.S. military in combat zones. And other investigations to be mutually agreed upon. You get the idea.” He passed the envelope to Nick.
You could’ve heard a hair fall to the floor. A job offer. He was coming to them with a job offer . . . working for the CIA. Beckett didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or pinch himself to see if he was dreaming all this up. Now that he was trying his hand at this dreaming thing, and all . . .
Chen laughed. It was the first time Beckett had ever heard him do so. “I know my job is complete when I’ve completely killed the conversation in a room.”
Nick shook his head. “Sorry, no. It’s just that—”
“Don’t say anything right now,” Chen said. “I won’t brook any debate. Read the details. Talk about it between the five of you. Think about it for as long as you like. It’s a standing offer.” He clicked his case closed and patted his hand against the leather. “Unfortunately, my bag of tricks is now empty.”
“I’d say that was a pretty amazing set of tricks just as it was,” Becca said. Nods and agreement all around.
Beckett stepped right up to the man and offered his hand. “Thank you. What you did today means a lot. Just want to say that.” Chen nodded, and every single person in the room—men and women, alike—came and offered their gratitude.
And then Chen split, as quickly as he’d come.
“Well, that was interesting,” Jeremy said, setting off chuckles around the room. As he’d done the past few days, his choice of T-shirt today once again featured a “head” theme. This one had a stick figure of a man with a disproportionately tiny head. The text read, A little head never hurt anyone. He said he was celebrating still having a head, after all. Jeremy was recovering just fine.
“I want to throw another idea on the table,” Nick said, “if we’re going to seriously consider this.” He tapped his fingers against Chen’s envelope.
Beckett nodded. “Let’s hear it.” Because he had one of his own. Chen was right—they had worked well together. And they each brought different areas of expertise to the table. They made a great team, and he wasn’t ready to give that up. For a whole lot of reasons.
“Remember that cover story we told Jess a few weeks ago?” Nick asked. “The one where the five of us were working together to start up a new security-consulting business?”
Satisfaction rolled into Beckett’s gut. They were on the same wavelength after all.
“I was gonna suggest the same damn thing,” Easy said. “Truth is, I don’t have anything to go back to Philly for. And I—” He shook his head. “—I’d miss you assholes if we lost touch again.”
Beckett appreciated Easy going there. He really did. Because he was pretty damn sure the guy had just given voice to something every damn member of the team was thinking.
“I’m in,” Beckett said. “My brain was heading in the same direction.”
Marz nodded and pulled Emilie into his arms. “You fuckers are the only family I’ve ever had. I’m in, too.”
Shane nodded. “Hell, yeah. And besides . . .” He clasped hands with Sara. “No doubt Chen’s offer is great, but I don’t want to travel overseas, gone for months at a time. Not anymore. It’s not for me personally, anyway.”
“Me either,” Easy said. He put his arm around Jenna and pulled her in against his side.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Becca blew out a long breath. “Oh, thank God,” she said, dropping her face into her hands. “I thought I was going to be the one to have heart problems this time.” She threw her arms around Nick’s neck. “I would’ve supported you either way, but
it would be so hard to see you go.”
“Don’t worry, Sunshine. I’m not going anywhere,” Nick said, returning the embrace.
“If we’re serious,” Shane said, tossing his check to the desk in front of Nick. “Then I’m donating my money toward start-up costs for the business.”
Beckett dropped his check into the pile. “That I can totally agree to.”
“Me too,” Marz said, adding his envelope. “Because we’re going to need lots of toys. I mean, I want a war room. A real, honest-to-God war room. With a chair that has a cushion . . .”
Everyone laughed.
“What? I’m serious,” he said.
Grinning, Nick nodded. “Okay, then. Sounds to me like we’ve got a plan.”
“You know,” Jeremy said. “We rebuild the other side of the building and finish off all the unfinished spaces throughout . . .” He shrugged, and flicked his tongue against his lip piercing. “Anyone who wanted could live here and you could build your offices on the other side. Depending on how we laid out the new building, this complex could easily host both businesses and anywhere from six to eight loft apartments.”
“That’s kind of a crazy awesome idea, Jer,” Becca said. And, actually, Beckett thought she was totally right. He only had one hold-up with the plan—that Kat would live an hour away in D.C. But lots of people lived in one city and dated a person from the other, right? And now that Cole was gone, she’d be safe again, too. Details were still coming out about him, but what they’d learned for sure was that he’d been surveilling Kat for a while from that hotel across the street. Sick fuck. Beckett was still kicking himself for not realizing who he’d seen that night, but these days he was trying to get better about letting go of the past.
“I’m full of crazy awesome, Becca,” he said. “You should know that by now.” He winked at her and grinned. “You could even call it Hard Ink Security. Oh! Or, Hard Security, Inc. ‘Inc.’ with a c. Get it? That’s genius!”
A whole lotta crickets.
Chuckling, Charlie elbowed Jeremy. “No one ever recognizes genius during its time. Don’t worry about it.”
