The dastardly laugh Knox always used whenever he’d hacked his way into someplace he shouldn’t be filtered down the line. “Relax, brother. Darya’s already planted the seed with Sylvie and Ninette.”
Beckett grunted, not daring to take that line of conversation any further. Although, he made a note to take Darya on another shopping trip to one of those high-end purse or shoe stores. “What else? You calling this early, there’s a reason for it.”
Another hesitation, this one loaded with a nasty vibe that promised Beckett wouldn’t like what came next. “I got into the range’s system.”
“And?”
“Well, the good news is their security footage is all cloud storage and they’ve got a bird’s eye on all the lockers.”
Yep. There it was. The vibe was never wrong. “What’s the bad news?”
“There are two missing chunks of history a week prior for the streams pointed at Gia’s locker.”
“System maintenance?”
“Doubtful. Both are mid-morning, about the same time one day after the other. Not good practice to do maintenance during the day. One day for an emergency update, I’d buy. But two days in a row at the same time? Sounds fishy to me.”
Still a few blocks away from the loft, Beckett gave up his pace and slowed to a lazy walk. His heart beat strong and steady, but the hazy edge he’d been fighting all morning narrowed and sharpened. “You think someone’s covering their tracks?”
“I think guns don’t end up with a hair trigger without some kind of adjustment. Especially not a competition piece that’s kept isolated in a locker. Even if it’d been a fluke malfunction, the clip ending up on YouTube smells an awful lot like a smear campaign.”
It did to him, too. The real question was if Gia could get past her initial damage control reflex and focus on who and why someone would be inclined to fuck with her in the first place.
He stopped at the crossing opposite his loft, hands on hips, starring up at the wide window that ran the length of his suite. His lungs churned overtime from the incline he’d put behind him, but the sound still couldn’t compete with the shit churning through his head.
Knox’s voice cut through the silence. “How far are we going with this, brother?”
Digging in deeper with Gia was a risk. The biggest one he’d taken in a long damned time. Maybe ever. But man, if it worked like his gut told him it could—if he could nab a fraction of what Knox and some of his other brothers had—it’d be worth it.
“Beck?”
She wouldn’t bolt. She might hide. Might fight the idea of the two of them for a while, but she wasn’t a chicken and she wasn’t heartless. She’d proved that last night in spades.
The words came out rough, thick with fear he couldn’t have hidden if he’d wanted. “She’s protected. Everything we’ve got.”
To his credit, Knox didn’t laugh. Didn’t bust his ass or make any clever remarks, but a smile and maybe even a little relief filled his voice. “I take it we’re coverin’ this at rally on Monday?”
“Yeah.” He crossed the street toward the loft’s primary street entrance. “Keep on it until then. I wanna know who posted that clip.”
“I’m on it.”
“Anything else?”
One beat. Then another. “It’s not gonna be that hard, you know.”
“What’s not?”
“Tellin’ the rest of the guys. The only one of us who didn’t see it comin’ is you. Every one of ’em is gonna be tickled shitless.” He chuckled. “Except maybe Axel. Think he considered makin’ a move a time or two.”
“I’d break his fuckin’ arms.”
Knox laughed full-on at that one. “Yeah, but it would’ve got your ass off dead center a whole lot faster.” Movement sounded through the phone. “You sharin’ all of this with Gia, or are we keepin’ things quiet?”
Oh, hell no. Secrets with Gia would be a lethal backfire. “I’ll talk to her. My guess is she’ll either ignore it, fight it, or a little of both, but I’ll get her there.”
“Mmm. I bet you will.” In the background, an exuberant voice that could only belong to Levi sounded. “Gotta go. Sylvie’s gone all out on breakfast. You need something, give me a shout.”
The line disconnected a second later.
Typical Knox. Nothing got him focused and moving faster than a challenge, food, or sex—all three he had in abundance these days. Considering how they’d grown up and all they’d overcome, he was due for every bit of it. Hell, they both were.
He yanked open one of the double glass doors to the main lobby, bypassed the elevators and tripped the security locks to the stairs with his phone. Five floors later, he eased the industrial metal door to his loft shut behind him.
Quiet.
No water running.
No noises from behind the closed door that segregated his half of the floor from the common area in the center.
Gia’s purse was still on the kitchen island.
So far, so good.
Careful to keep his movements quiet, he slipped into his suite. Like Knox’s, it was mostly an open space, his office/living area closest to the entrance separated from his bedroom only by a high and wide bookshelf that stopped just three feet from the twelve-foot ceilings. The style had a whole different feel from his brother’s, though. Rugged, Sylvie had called it when she’d taken him shopping and he’d pointed out what he’d liked. Lots of natural, weathered wood, exposed brick walls and colors that blended in rather than stand out. Most important, there wasn’t a chair or scrap of material that didn’t feel fucking fantastic.
He sat his phone on the coffee table, snatched the hand towel he’d dropped on the couch before he’d headed out and headed for the opposite side of the suite.
The second he cleared the bookcase, his heart leveled out and the buzz that had chased him all through his run unplugged.
Gia was still there. Curled on one side with her back to him and her dark hair spilling over his pillow. The sheet was tucked under her arm, but dipped just enough down her back to show a tempting amount of skin.
He fisted his hands in his towel and just stood there, soaking it in and fighting the need to wake her the way he wanted. To stroke every inch of her the way he had last night. So soft. Firm and yet all woman in just the right places. She hadn’t freaked at his indulgence last night either. More, she seemed to like it. Seemed to float and glide on the sensations right along with him.
But giving in would go against the path he’d set and he wasn’t going backward. Not with her.
He wiped the sweat off his face and neck and padded closer, sorely tempted to hop in the shower before he woke her. Then again, there was no way in hell he was going to take her when he was sweaty from a long run, so maybe the no-shower approach would help him keep his shit in check.
He sat on the side of the bed and her eyes snapped open, her startled gasp filling the otherwise quiet room.
“Beckett?” She frowned, blinked a few times and pushed up to an elbow, scanning the room as she moved. The second she got upright, the sheet slipped, barely covering one nipple. She grabbed it and her sleep-weighted brown eyes got huge, her memories of last night no doubt coming back online in a rush. “What time is it?”
God, she was cute when she was flustered. Not that he’d share that opinion just yet. He liked his balls where they were and he had a pretty good idea Gia could go from cute to she-devil in a second this early in the morning. “Not late. Only a little after eight.” He smoothed her hair away from her face and cupped the side of her neck, stroking his thumb along her pulse. “You hungry? Want some coffee?”
She studied his clothes and gripped the sheet a little tighter. “You worked out already?”
He grinned, though given the way her eyes narrowed, maybe he shouldn’t have. “Well, it was either go for a run and relieve some tension, or giv
e in and wake you up with a different brand of cardio, so yeah.”
Her lips softened and the keen focus in her eyes heated. When she spoke, her voice still had the same raspy morning sound to it, but it came out lower. Huskier. “That wouldn’t have been so bad.”
Hell, no it wouldn’t have. Except then he’d have lost the upper hand and no way was he doing that until he got what he wanted. “Oh, it would have been stellar.” He leaned in, teased her lips with his and ran his nose alongside hers. “But it’s not gonna happen until you agree to more than casual.”
The tiny hitch in her breath worked him as thoroughly as a velvet fist to his cock and the outline of her amazing tits pressed against his sheets made him halfway tempted to say to hell with his plans. He gently squeezed her neck, kissed her forehead and said the one thing that guaranteed to keep him on track. “Slide out of bed, gorgeous. I’ve got news on the thing that went down at the range and want you caffeinated before I share.”
He’d barely managed to back away before she snapped to attention, pushing fully upright. “Knox got the clip down?”
“Knox had the clip down before I had you in my bed.” He rounded the footboard and headed for the door.
“Beckett!”
He didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. Gia sweet and cuddly was a turn-on. Gia madder than hell was a goddamn sexual demand. “You wanna know more, you’re gonna have to get dressed and come get some food and coffee.”
A sound between a grunt and an indelicate snarl chased him out of the room, and if she’d had anything worth throwing in reaching distance, he’d have likely had it hit him square between the shoulder blades.
Fortunately, he made it out of the room and got the single-brew coffee wonder warmed up and ready for action before Gia stomped around the corner. Her cheeks were pink and her hair not nearly as messy as he’d like to see it first thing after crawling out of his bed.
And man, was she was on a mission.
She yanked a bar stool out from under the kitchen island. “Tell me.”
He turned to the coffee machine and got to work. God knew, he wasn’t stupid enough to let her see how hard he was fighting a smile. He ran it down, conveying every detail Knox had shared, then back-and-forthed a line of questions that almost identically matched the ones he’d traded with Knox.
The machine finished its gurgle and hiss just as she fired off, “So, what? You think someone’s intentionally trying to make me look bad?”
He handed her the cup and braced his elbows on the polished concrete countertop. “You gotta admit. The pieces fit. The kind of business we’re in, it’s not uncommon to piss people off. The real question is who you pissed off.”
She glared at the counter, eyes distant.
“Need you to be smart about this, G. I know you’re pissed at yourself over what happened, but it happened. And my gut tells me it wasn’t a freak deal. You gotta be smart. Look at every angle.”
Her mouth pursed tight, but she still didn’t look at him.
Well, what the fuck. In for a penny, in for a pound. “And just so we’re clear, you’re not the only one looking.”
Her head snapped up, the contemplative look on her face replaced with sharp awareness. “What’s that mean?”
“It means Knox is digging. It means Axel’s probably already made a call to Maury and told him to get the lead out on checking your gun. Not sure how the rest of the guys are gonna dive in, but you can bet they’re already chewin’ on what they can do.”
“Why would they do that? I can handle this just fine.”
“Sure, you can. You’re just not going to.”
“Says who?”
“Me. And them.”
Her eyes narrowed, the heat behind them practically licking against his skin. “That’s not your call.”
Right. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it with everything on the table from the get-go. He pushed away from his side of the counter and paced toward her.
Her grip on the coffee mug tightened, but otherwise she kept her place. “Do not think for a second you can intimidate me, Beckett Tate. I’m not like the rest of the women in your family. I can take care of myself. And if you think this is helping your I want more than casual argument, it’s not.”
“You’re wrong.” Careful not to burn her, he pried her mug from her fingers and sat it out of reaching distance. “Every woman in my family is strong as hell. Just like you.” He crowded closer, purposefully working his hips between her thighs so she couldn’t make good use of her knee against his nuts, then leaned in close. “I know you can take care of yourself. I know you can whip most men’s asses and not break a sweat doing it, but if I can make it so you don’t have to lift a finger in the first place, you can bet your sweet behind I’m going to do it. That’s who I am. That’s who my brothers are, and that’s what you deserve. A man who’ll look out for you whether you can handle it on your own or not. And if that’s not making my case for me, then I don’t know what the fuck would.”
She swallowed huge and the fire in her gaze shifted to uncustomary wariness. Or maybe it was just flat-out confusion. The latter wouldn’t be surprising. From the hints she’d given last night, she’d never had anyone throw down in her best interest before.
“Truth, gorgeous. Last night. How’d it feel letting go? Letting someone else steer the course?”
Her lips tightened. As if she couldn’t quite form the words or find the strength to set them free.
So he did it for her. “I watched you, G. I felt you. You liked it.” Risky as it was to push the gentle approach, he cupped the side of her face and swept his thumb along her cheek. “The deal at the range could’ve gone a lot different. That near miss could have been a hit. Worse, it could have been you that got hurt. You’ve helped me. You’ve helped my brothers and their women. You let go on this and let us return the favor, you’ll find another kind of freedom.” He kissed her forehead, stepped back and slid her coffee back in front of her. “You find the courage to face what I’m offering on both fronts, you’ll never be safer.”
Chapter Eleven
Gia paused the security footage Knox had emailed her, dropped back in her desk chair and sighed. Beckett was right. Two outages so tightly paralleled one day after the other was suspicious. Paired with the confirmation she’d gotten from Beckett’s gunsmith and the video posted on YouTube, she’d be an epic fool if she didn’t face reality.
Someone had set her up.
But why?
Outside her window, Klyde Warren Park was almost deserted, the late afternoon August heat too much for anyone save the most hard-core outdoor lovers. From her heavily air-conditioned home office, the view was pretty, though. Five acres of green stretched over Woodall Rodgers Freeway for an odd mix of urban bustle and manicured beauty.
She rolled her head and stared up at the ceiling. Like her bedroom, the modest space was deeply feminine—pale dove-gray walls, matte white trim and matching furniture with ballet-pink accents. Nothing like where Beckett worked. But then, working only contract jobs instead of providing every aspect of security the way he and Knox did, she didn’t need the corporate look. Didn’t want it. Her home and her office were her oasis. A place where the woman inside her didn’t have to hide.
Shaking off her wandering thoughts, she straightened and pulled up the working list of possibilities she’d started. Not that she’d tallied many options. One corporate nut job who’d tried to off his boss right before she’d left Atlanta, the two gigs she’d helped Beckett and his brothers with in the last few years, and one over-the-top stalker who’d scared the bejesus out of one of her clients before she’d helped the cops put him away. Of the four, she was banking on the last one given he’d been released from jail on a technicality a little over three months ago.
Her phone rang and her heart jolted.
Beckett.
S
he grabbed the device, almost reflexively swiping the answer button until her brain registered her father’s name on the display instead of the one she’d expected to find. Her thumb froze and her smile slipped. She should let it go to voicemail. At least then she’d get some clue on what her father was up to so she could prepare and have a decent counterattack. Of course, then she’d have to field a call from her mother within a half hour and, while Gia loved her mom, finding common topics to talk about was a strain on a good day.
She took the call. “A phone call from Atlanta’s most esteemed criminal attorney on a weekend? I thought Sundays were reserved for brunch at the club and a leisurely eighteen holes with Judge Allen and his cronies.”
“Don’t be snide, Gia. It doesn’t become a lady.”
Gia barely bit back a derisive bark of laughter and managed a delicate chide instead. “I thought we’d agreed I don’t fit the standard Southern belle mold.”
“I have no doubt my daughter could accomplish whatever she sets her mind to. She just seems to be inordinately obstinate when it comes to occupational choices and taste in men.”
His daughter.
No mention of his wife. Which was ironic given Reginald Sinclair had only participated in her upbringing at a financial or figurehead level for the first eighteen years of her life. After she’d lowered the boom and changed her major to criminal justice, even that support had all but dried up. “I prefer to think of myself as stalwart and self-aware.”
“Indeed.”
God, that word. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d heard it growing up. A minimalist approach to swiping whatever she had to share under the rug, always spoken in that deep, cultured and highly superior voice that made her feel as insignificant as rat dung.
Her dad cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s your job I wanted to talk to you about.”
The gentle whoosh of the air-conditioning through the ceiling vent seemed to whisper a retreat and her stomach clenched, braced for the worst. Not once had her father ever willingly brought up her chosen career. “What about it?”
Stand & Deliver Page 12
