The Soldier's Wife

by Sirena N. Robinson

  Murphy eased her bra straps down her arms and cast it aside, his hands taking possession of her breasts, lifting them in his palms and drawing his thumbs across her nipples, watching the way they puckered and tightened in response to his touch.

  “We could be really brazen and just go at it right here on the floor. I’ll put on the deadbolt to keep unwanted guests out.”

  Beckett glanced over her shoulder toward the door, then up the stairs toward the bedroom.

  “I’ll get the lock, you get the condom.”

  Murphy crushed her to his chest, his mouth clamping on hers and his tongue sweeping between her lips to tangle with hers. When he pulled back, leaving Beckett breathless and panting, he grinned at her.

  “You are the most perfect woman who’s ever been created.”

  Feeling like a teenager, Beckett jumped to her feet and dashed in the direction of the door, leaving Murphy to leap up the stairs and into the bedroom to snatch a condom from the box in the nightstand. She was still working on getting her clothes off when he appeared at the top of the steps, condom in one hand. Watching while he undressed as he ran back down the stairs, she laughed when he nearly fell twice but successfully managed to make it back to the living room.

  “I might be willing to be a little wild and brazen with you, but I’m too damn old to do this on the floor. We’ll use the couch.”

  Murphy chuckled and drew her into his arms, holding her tightly against his own body. “I’ll forever be fond of this couch and have a chuckle every time I see anyone else sitting here.”

  “You should already be fond of this couch. It’s not the first time we’ve been frisky in the living room.”

  Murphy grinned at her. “I’m having it bronzed when we get a new one.”

  Beckett gasped when he picked her up and dropped her onto the cushions, the fabric slightly rough on her bare butt. He lowered himself to his knees and knelt next to the couch, leaning over to press a kiss to her throat. Content to let him touch, Beckett stretched out on the piece of furniture, draping one arm behind her head.

  He trailed his mouth down her chest and over her breast, brushing his lips over her nipple. When she trembled, he used his tongue to dampen her flesh, swirling it around the tightly beaded tip. Smoothing his fingers down her body, he dipped them between her legs and stroked his fingers over her, bringing her quickly to fever pitch.

  Excitement making both of them heady, Murphy slipped a finger inside her body, groaning against her breast when he found her hot and wet. Her hips lifted to press against his hand, urging his ministrations to continue. She bit down on her lower lip and ground her head into the arm of the couch, her hair a crimson explosion around her face.

  Skillfully, he drove her up the crest of climax, using his mouth and hand to bring her as much pleasure as he could. He rubbed his fingertips over her clit while stoking one inside her, enjoying every gasp and movement. Wanting to stimulate Murphy as he did her, Beckett managed to work one of her hands down to stroke her hand over his erection, enjoying the feel of velvety soft skin stretched over steely hardness.

  Moving her fingers back and forth, she wrapped her hand loosely around him and glided it back and forth, focusing on his pleasure even as he brought her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.

  Desperate for penetration, Beckett sat up and yanked on Murphy’s arm, shoving him to the couch before straddling him. She grabbed the condom from the end table and tore it open, wrapping the thin latex barrier over his erection before holding him steady with one hand, bracing the other on his shoulder, and lowering herself down onto him.

  Her body twitched around him as she lowered herself on his penis. Bringing her other hand to his shoulder, she slid back and forth, wet and easy in his lap. Murphy’s hands went to her hips, holding them tightly and urging her to continue. She increased her pace, driving them both closer to completion. Her body strained toward orgasm, her skin flushing and dampening. Murphy’s fingers tightened on her hips and his head fell back, his eyes closing as he teetered on the edge.

  With a muffled cry, Beckett threw herself over the edge and flew apart as orgasm rolled through her, her hips jerking against his and her body clamping around him rhythmically. Murphy slid her back and forth several times, jerking her into him tightly as he erupted within her.

  She collapsed into his arms, her chest heaving and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Murphy held her close, nuzzling his face into the side of her neck. After several moments, she detangled herself and stood, bending to reach for her clothes. As she scooped up her jeans, she heard a key in the lock and squealed, racing for the top of the stairs. Laughing, Murphy peeled off the condom and headed for the downstairs bathroom to dispose of it. Caleb’s voice sounded through the door.

  “Hey! You guys in there? Open up! I’ve got dinner!”

  “Hold your horses and give me a minute. I’m in the bathroom.” Grabbing his clothes from the floor, he yanked on the t-shirt and jeans and headed for the door, watching Beckett racing up the stairs naked and bright red as he strode across the room. Opening the door, he grinned at his brother. “Perfect timing.”

  Chapter 25

  “This ring is seriously gorgeous.” Savi held Beckett’s hand in her own and stared at the glittering jewelry. “You did good, Murph. Damn good.”

  Beckett laughed and used her free hand to take a bite of pizza. “I think it’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever owned.”

  “Totally. As soon as all this is over, we’ll get to start wedding planning. You said spring, right?”

  Beckett nodded. “We haven’t gotten any further than that, so don’t get too excited yet.” She pulled her hand free to pick up her glass of wine. “Everything is on hold until this shit with Ryan gets figured out. Christmas is next week, so something has to come to a head soon.”

  Smoothly, Jax changed the subject to one more appropriate for dinner. “So, Savi, any desire to go through wedding bells and engagement rings yourself? You seem pretty excited about Beck and Murphy tying the knot.”

  Grinning back at him, Savi saluted Jax with her pizza. “Anytime you’re ready, honey, we’ll just head on up to the courthouse and enslave ourselves to one another. You’re awfully pretty to look at. I might not get tired of that for five or ten years on its own.”

  Snorting, Jax leaned over and bit a chunk off the pizza she held in the air. “Seriously, though, has it not occurred to you that we don’t know much about you? We know the basics, we know we like you and you’re a part of this whole shit-storm, but you don’t talk about you very much. Tell us something interesting.”

  Savi leaned back in her seat and settled in. “Well, when I was two, my parents abandoned me in the jungle and I was raised by an orangutan. When I was twelve, I decided I didn’t want to be Tarzan anymore, so I trekked across thousands of miles of jungle, risking life and limb every day and found my way to the United States where I found a rich long-lost uncle who raised me, put me through college, and bought me my first bakery. Unfortunately, for him to give me all the money, I had to agree to never get married.”

  Laughing, Caleb leaned over and slung one arm around her in a friendly hug. “That’s the way. Don’t let Jax bully you into anything you don’t want to tell. The details are none of our business if you don’t want them to be.”

  Beckett noticed the forced expression on Savi’s face and the way she tensed at the contact. Within seconds, she watched Savi force herself to relax and reach for her wine, a tense smile on her face.

  “The problem is you assume I’m lying.”

  Relief flashing across her face when Caleb removed his arms, Savi took a deep drink. When she spoke, her voice was light and casual, though she gave too few details for Beckett to believe she had told the whole truth.

  “Seriously, though, there’s not much to tell. Elaina and I had not-great parents who didn’t want any measure of creativity or rebellion. She took off one direction, I went to boarding school and complied for a while. When the
y started pushing eligible bachelors on me, I moved to Chicago and married the first man who looked at me twice.”

  Interrupting, Jax chuckled. “Which must have been the first man to lay eyes on you.”

  “Naturally.” Continuing, Savi offered him a grin. “It lasted three years, we divorced, my sister died, and here I am. My story isn’t very interesting.”

  Beckett swiftly changed the subject before any more focus could be put on Savi and the finer details of her life before arriving in Trenton. “So, Caleb, assuming we survive to the new year, are you still thinking of applying for professorship down at Trenton University?”

  Caleb shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure yet. The pay is better for sure, but I’d have to give up the football team, which I don’t know if I’m ready to do. I put in the application just to gauge their interest, so I won’t have to make a decision unless they offer me the position. We’ll see.” Chuckling, he glanced between his brothers. “Most days I wish I could just give it up and hop on the boat with Jax or spend my days under cars with Murphy. I love teaching, but it doesn’t give me any of the freedom you two have. I miss being able to call my own shots and make my own hours.”

  Savi laughed. “It seems you’re a family of entrepreneurs. American dream and all.”

  Murphy snorted. “You’re talking to a mechanic, a fisherman, a teacher, a stylist, and a baker. We’re not exactly a group of rich doctors and lawyers.”

  “No, but you own your own shop, which appears to be successful. Jax has his own boat and makes his own living. Beckett now owns a huge business that is super successful and I work at that business by running the café. It may not be glamorous, but it’s more than most people have.”

  Beckett sipped her wine thoughtfully. “It’s more than I ever thought I’d get. When I married into this family, I was heaving trays full of drinks and sandwiches for a living. As long as I survive the next few weeks, I’ll consider my life to be a success. Great kids, great family and friends, a job I love. There are a lot worse ways to go.” She finished the slice of pizza on her plate and reached for another. “On a happier note, I’m getting to talk to the kids tomorrow. Clint is arranging for a phone call from wherever they are. Anyone who wants to talk to them needs to be there by noon.”

  Savi nodded. “I’ll definitely be there to talk to Lyla. She sounds like she’s having a decent time in the letters, but I hate not being there with her. Cassie and Allen wouldn’t let anything happen to her and I know that, but I worry because she doesn’t know them very well. I’d just prefer to have her with me.”

  Caleb reached out and covered her hand with his own. “So would we all.” Laying his pizza down on his plate, he folded his hands. “There’s one thing about this entire ordeal that’s bugging me.”

  Murphy laughed. “Just one?”

  “Oh, shut up.” Caleb rolled his eyes and kicked his brother’s chair playfully. “Seriously, if Ryan was under investigation by the Army for his role in this Malatoa thing and was going to be court-martialed, why in the hell didn’t anyone from the Army tell Beckett about it? Or us? They buried what we thought was him with full honors and offered him a spot in Arlington. I can’t imagine why they did that if they knew what he was doing.”

  Beckett mulled it over as she chewed a bite. “Because they didn’t want me to know about it. I’m sure something like this isn’t something they would want getting out. It would be embarrassing for the Army at best, and at worst it would involve lots of press, media, trials, so on and so forth. So I get why they kept it quiet. And if he was under investigation, he was still considered to be innocent. I’m guessing they didn’t think I had anything to do with it or else they would’ve interrogated me about it.”

  Pushing back from the table, Jax lifted the empty pizza box and crushed it, folding the cardboard into the trashcan. “I don’t think it matters. All that matters is finding Ryan and getting all this shit over with. Christmas will be here soon, and I don’t think the Malatoas are going to take no for an answer.”

  ****

  Beckett lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Murphy slept next to her, his even breathing lulling her toward sleep, but her racing mind rendered it just out of reach. She thought back over every moment of her marriage she could recall, trying to focus on any details that would shed light on where Ryan would be or where he’d have hidden things. The Sheriff’s office had gone through the storage unit meticulously, logging every pair of socks into evidence and documenting it, so she knew there was nothing in there.

  There was nothing she’d kept that had been remotely related to the situation they were in. She’d never found drugs or money that was out of place. There hadn’t been any overt warning signs, and yet, in order for him to have disappeared, he would have made plans for hiding the drugs and money before faking his death. Which meant there was a paper trail. Somewhere. She just had to find it.

  Scolding herself for believing she could solve the puzzle when not even the FBI had managed to find any solid proof, Beckett sighed and sat up, giving up on sleep. Pulling her robe on over her pajamas, she slipped from the bedroom and crept down the hall, passing the rooms where Savi and Caleb slept. She started to descend the stairs to the main floor, then changed her mind and opened the door leading up to the attic, ascending the steps and pulling the cord to turn on the bare light bulb in the middle of the room.

  Surveying the boxes of Christmas decorations and old clothes, she tapped her fingers on her thigh, mentally sorting out what she’d gathered since moving to Maine and what she’d had while married to Ryan. Starting on one end of the attic, she dragged the boxes and totes of stuff from their life together to one side, putting the boxes that were mixed in the middle and the items she knew had been purchased after his death on the other.

  In deference to the chill from the lack of heat in her attic, she pulled on an old hoodie from one of the boxes and spread out three old baby blankets on the floor to sit on. Dropping onto her makeshift mat, she reached for the first box and ripped the tape loose, opening the lid and beginning the process of going through the contents.

  She sorted through piles of clothing, checking every pocket and seam for anything useful. Two boxes were filled with photo albums, which she set aside to inspect later, not wanting to damage any of the old photographs by ripping them from the pages. Smiling over Christmas ornaments, she picked up the one Ryan had gotten her for their first anniversary and turned it over in her hands, the smile fading to a frown when she saw a crack in the porcelain.

  She had no memory of the ornament ever having been broken. Curious, she emptied out a small tote to catch the pieces and retrieved a hammer from the long-forgotten toolkit she’d found beneath her wedding dress. Holding the ornament in one hand and the hammer in the other, she rapped the porcelain smartly with metal and watched as pieces dropped into the plastic bin. In the midst of the pieces was a slip of paper.

  Her heart pounding in her chest, Beckett picked up the paper and unfolded it, finding the key to a lock and a series of numbers written in what she immediately recognized as Ryan’s handwriting. Tucking the two items into the pocket of her robe, she pushed up her sleeves and reached for the next ornament, making peace with destroying all of her Christmas decorations in the pursuit of her erstwhile husband.

  Chapter 26

  Hours later, safely at her desk at Vive, Beckett removed the contents of the ornaments from her purse and laid them on the wooden surface. Unlike the other clues she’d found—the ones in the storage locker—there had been no bundles of cash or bricks of cocaine inside her Christmas ornaments. Instead, she’d found four pieces of folded paper and one key. Each piece of paper had a series of numbers on it, but no explanation for context.

  Tapping her fingers on the desk and staring at the papers, she racked her brain for an explanation of what the numbers meant and why they were important enough to have been stored inside Christmas decorations.

  Pulling out a pad of paper, she tried to investigate w
hether the numbers were a code by matching each digit with its corresponding letter. She tried it going backward, forward, starting in the middle and going each way, treating each digit as if it were singular or a double digit, and made nothing other than nonsense. After scribbling for forty-five minutes, she gave up on the notion and booted up her computer, methodically entering each series of numbers into the Internet search engine and hoping for something relevant. She tried each series individually, putting them all together, and in several different combinations of two and three.

  Finding nothing, she tried to divide them up into phone numbers, trying all the country codes she could find. When that resulted in her waking up someone she couldn’t understand in Thailand and getting a very grumpy Australian farmer, she cast the idea aside and ran her hands through her hair, trying to figure out what else they could be.

  Not a phone number, not a code, not anything that had ever been posted on the Internet. What else could they be? Too long to be a safe combination or a security code. Passwords, maybe? Pleased with her new idea, she brought up the email service Ryan had used and tried to access his email, entering each of the four sequences as a password. When she hit on the last one and the email opened up, her heart slapped against her ribs.

  She wasn’t surprised to find nothing other than spam and ads in the inbox. The sent box was empty, there were no folders created, and some investigating showed her it had been several years since anything had been deleted out of the inbox. Pursing her lips, she checked the settings, elated when she found a forwarding address. Logging out and entering in the new email address, she tried the codes, relieved when the same one opened up the new box.

  “Not as savvy as you thought, are you Ryan?” Muttering under her breath, Beckett began the process anew, going through everything in the email with a fine-toothed comb.