Chuckling, Jax lifted the beer in her direction. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I couldn’t sleep. Keep thinking about tomorrow and what’s going to happen with Ryan.”
Savi stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’ll be okay. Beckett’s smart. She knows what she’s doing.”
She hesitated in the doorway, unsure what to say or do. Her thoughts of a middle of the night peanut butter sandwich fled as she realized she’d have to eat it while making awkward small talk with Jax. Unsure how to retreat back up the stairs without looking like a complete jerk, she bounced on the balls of her feet, weighing her options.
Seemingly well aware of her internal struggle, Jax closed the fridge and slid past her to the dining room table, dropping into a chair and snagging an apple from the bowl in the middle.
“All yours.”
“Thanks.”
Reading the challenge in his eyes, Savi got the bread from the box, retrieved the peanut butter from the cabinet above the fridge, and pulled a knife from the drawer. Efficiently, she made two peanut butter sandwiches, cut them into quarters, and arranged the pieces on two plates, placing one in front of Jax and the other across from him for herself. Noting the level of liquid in his beer bottle, she pulled down two glasses and poured milk.
Jax picked up one of the pieces and took a bite, laying his apple on the plate. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”
“Just trying to be nice.” Offering a half-smile, she sat and picked up her own sandwich, sighing with delight when the rich taste of peanut butter exploded on her tongue.
“Why are you scared of me?”
Only caught half off-guard by the question, she chewed thoughtfully. “I’m not scared of you, Jax. I’m cautious. There’s a difference. None of you have done anything to scare me.”
His blue eyes burning in a tanned face and dirty blond hair falling to frame features that would have made an angel jealous, Jax leaned forward onto his elbows. “You jump when one of us touches you. You tease and flirt and joke, which is great fun, but if one of us manages to startle you, you recoil like we’re going to beat you just for looking at us wrong. Has someone hurt you? Are you running from someone?”
“I’m not running from anything. I’m not hurt. I generally prefer to be by myself, and I don’t care too much for men, that’s all.”
“Ah.” Nodding knowingly, Jax finished the sandwich. “You prefer women.”
“I prefer no one. I’m not interested in romance. It’s a distraction from my career and from Lyla.” Uncomfortable, her palms sweaty, Savi pushed the chair back and stood, leaving half her sandwich on her plate. “Look, I appreciate you being concerned. Truly I do. But I’m fine. There’s no one chasing me, I’m not running from the law or worried about alien abductions or any other thing. We really ought to focus on what’s going on here with Beckett and Ryan.” Savi said the one thing that she hoped would keep Jax from delving further into her past. She didn’t need him knowing the details and wasn’t sure she would ever be comfortable opening up to him-or to anyone else.
“I am focused. Just can’t help being curious when someone I’d consider a friend looks like I’m going to bash her skull in if I offer a hug.”
Closing her eyes, Savi jerkily cleared the table and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. “From my understanding, you and your brothers all have histories of getting a bit violent at times. Perhaps what you see as fear is merely me taking precautions to ensure I’m not next on your list.”
Jax grinned. “You damn well know none of the three of us would ever lay a hand on you or any other woman or child, ever, and only another man when they were very seriously asking for it. Don’t try to turn this around on me. If there’s a problem, I’d like to help you. If someone is after you, well, we’re getting pretty experienced with that sort of thing these days.”
Heading for the stairs, desperate to end the conversation, Savi clutched her robe closer. “That’s the thing. I don’t know you. Not really. I certainly don’t know what any of you are capable of. I think you’re all good people, the four of you, but I’ve only been here three months, and a lot has happened in that time. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Jax didn’t speak again until she was near the top of the stairs. “I meant what I said the other day. We’re a family. Me, my brothers, Beckett, the kids, and even Lyla. She’s our blood. You’re her blood. That makes you family, too, Savi. Whatever it is you’re scared of—and you haven’t convinced me you’re not scared of something or someone—we’ll take care of you the same way we’ve all rallied around Beckett. It’s what family does, and like it or not, you’re part of ours.”
Savi didn’t respond. She finished climbing the steps to her borrowed bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaning heavily against it. Deep down, she knew what Jax had said was true. They had become a family, after a sort, and she was a part of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be.
****
Ryan stood in his hotel room at the window, looking out at the slow crawl of Bar Harbor. December was well past the tourist season but in the middle of holiday travel, so the foot traffic on the island was steady enough he wasn’t worried about being recognized. On the bed, his laptop sat open, the email Beckett had sent him pulled up on the screen.
His wife wasn’t as stupid as he’d thought. Clever enough to not only find the locations of the Malatoa operations, but she’d also been smart enough to figure out he’d used one of them as an email password in order to help himself remember it.
Without the other locations, he had no leverage against the Malatoas or the federal government in order to keep himself out of prison. Without the papers, there was no way to get to the money he would need to disappear once and for all. Identities were expensive—good ones anyway—and he’d had to purchase more than he’d expected. The bricks of cocaine and money he’d hidden needed to be retrieved, and his more clever than anticipated wife was the one who had the locations of everything.
Shaking his head in disgust, Ryan closed the curtains and returned to the bed, dropping down onto it. It was poor planning on his part. He’d hidden the locations in the Christmas ornaments without memorizing them in anticipation of coming back for them after his Colombia deployment. That hadn’t happened.
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down.
“You’ll get them back, use them as leverage against whomever you need to, and when it’s all over, you’ll be a rich man who doesn’t have to keep running. Maybe you’ll even get to meet your kids.”
Satisfied with the plan, if not pleased by it, he closed the laptop. He’d never intended to let Ryan McKenzie come back from the dead. But faced with either doing so or watching his wife, brothers, and parents pay the price, well, as much as he’d tried to deny it, Ryan was coming to terms with the knowledge he wasn’t a complete monster after all. And besides, Beckett had several bricks of cocaine, even if she wasn’t aware of it. He needed the drugs for his plan, whichever way it ended up going.
She would either have to get on board, or she’d end up at the mercy of the Malatoas. Ryan was positive he knew Beckett well enough to be sure she would follow right along with his plan. After all, he was pretty sure she wanted to stay alive.
Chapter 29
Beckett’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked into the bar. She wore jeans, a sweater, and tennis shoes. Her hair was wrapped in a tight braid tucked under itself so no one could grab it to stop her from running if she needed to.
Smiling at the hostess, she surveyed the bar, looking for Ryan but unsurprised not to find him.
“Just one?”
“I’m waiting on someone. Could I have a booth? Somewhere quiet?”
With a knowing smile, the hostess plucked a drink menu from her station and led Beckett through the noisy bar to a tucked away booth. Waiting until she’d sat down, choosing to keep her face toward the bar, the hostess handed Beckett the menu.
�
��Waitress will be right over.”
“Thanks.”
Beckett studied the drink menu and looked around the bar. Savi was seated at the bar top, wearing a skin-tight, red dress that dipped low over her breasts and was cut high on her thighs. One black stiletto dangled off her foot as she was flirtatiously running her hand up the arm of the tourist she was using as cover. With bold red lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, heavy liner, her hair curling and cascading down her back, and what had to be the world’s best push-up bra, Beckett barely recognized the woman herself.
A waitress—looking bored and chewing bubblegum—sidled up to the table, notepad in hand. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a glass of Riesling and my friend will want a scotch, neat. Top shelf.”
“Anything to eat?”
Beckett raked her eyes over the stingy menu. “Chips and salsa.”
“Got it. Drinks’ll be up in a minute.”
The glasses were slid onto the table with careless efficiency less than thirty seconds before the door opened and Ryan strode in.
His hair was different, and he was wearing colored contacts. Beckett studied the man she’d once been married to, taking in the tall, powerful body, the face starting to show its age, and the dramatic sweeps of gray at his temples.
Bending to kiss her cheek, Ryan slid into the booth across from her and picked up the drink, sipping, then nodding his approval.
“You remembered what I like. Thanks.” He folded his hands on the table. “Did you order some food?”
“Nachos.”
“Good. We can share.” With an easy smile, he leaned back and draped one of his arms across the back of the booth. “You look good, Beck. Real good.”
Her spine stiff and anger roiling just below the surface, Beckett forced herself to remain cordial. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath and swallowed a gulp of wine to ease the burning in her throat. “Let’s get down to business. I don’t want to spend any longer here with you than is necessary.”
Ryan offered her a grin and lifted one eyebrow. “That’s right. Murphy’s waiting for you at home.” He chuckled. “I have to admit, I never saw it coming, but thinking about it, I’m not sure why. The two of you would work well together. I completely approve, if it matters.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I didn’t figure it did. Look, we’ve got a lot to talk about, so loosen up a bit. I’m not going to hurt you, and nothing bad is going to happen. We’re going to chat, catch up with each other, I’ll answer your questions, and you’ll give me the numbers you found. Simple.” Spreading his hands on the table, he looked at her charmingly. “How are the kids?”
Her temper flared, but Beckett tightened her control on herself and forced herself to relax incrementally. “They’re fine. I haven’t actually seen them in weeks because of you, but I hear they’re doing well.”
“Now, Beckett, it’s not fair to blame me for everything. You could have kept them here with you. It’s you who chose to let them go.” He smiled at the waitress when she sat the chips and salsa on the table. “Thanks, darling. Could you be a dear and snag me a draft of Sam Adams? The lady needs a refill on her wine and a glass of water.”
“Sure.”
Once the waitress had bounded off to retrieve more drinks, Ryan turned his attention back to Beckett.
“It’s nice knowing everything is out in the open. I really did hate having to lie to you as much as I did.”
The words were out before she could stop them. “Did you? Funny, I wonder how many other women you could say that to?”
“A lot.” The admission was easy, as was the grin that came with it. “A man has needs, Beckett. Do you really think Murph will be faithful to you? Or that any man is truly faithful to any woman?”
“I think you’re a jackass, which is all I really need to know.”
“Don’t get bitchy.” The correction was sharp, Ryan’s eyes hardening. “We’re having a perfectly civil conversation. A lot’s changed in six years. I’d like to be caught up.”
“It’s none of your business.” Biting her lip when the waitress came with wine, beer, and water, she stopped talking until the girl had left again. “I wish you really had been dead.”
“And if not for Jason, you’d never know I wasn’t. It’s unfortunate I wasn’t able to get to him before the Malatoas did. If I had, none of this would be happening. It’s a mistake I’ll be sure not to repeat.”
The pit in Beckett’s stomach tightened, as she listened to the cold, calculating manner in which Ryan spoke; she had married a monster.
“Believe me or not, but I don’t like lying. It’s an unfortunate part of my work that I have to. No, I wasn’t faithful to you. Yes, I let you believe I was. Did I ever love you?” Pursing his lips, Ryan shrugged. “Hard to say. I enjoyed you, certainly. Young, vibrant, malleable. There was nothing not to like. You made a gorgeous widow, I will say that much. I have this picture, from the local paper, of you carrying Rhys, pregnant, a flag tucked under your arm and one of my brothers on either side of you. It’s stunning.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet, unfolding an old newspaper clipping and sliding it across the table.
Nausea rising in her throat, Beckett gulped water to keep it down and reached for a chip, trying to keep the tone light and friendly, her eyes diverted to the photo. She remembered the moment well, the grief of burying her husband, the confusion of where to go next, the physical sensation of Harlow kicking in her belly while Rhys laid heavily on her shoulder. If it hadn’t been for Caleb and Murphy, Beckett knew she’d have collapsed under the pressure.
Clearing her throat, she pushed the photo back toward him and continued, keeping her tone even and neutral. “Did you ever even want to see them?”
“The kids? Of course. I love Rhys and Lyla. I don’t know Harlow, but I’m sure she’s fine. Hopefully once I come back, I’ll be able to get to know them.”
Over her dead body.
Beckett forced herself not to say a word about it. “I have a lot of questions, Ryan. Questions I want answers to and that I’m afraid to ask. I hate you.”
Sounding for the first time like the man she’d married, Ryan sobered and regarded her seriously. “I know you do. I can’t give you most of the answers you want, and even some of the ones I can, I won’t.” He sighed and munched on a chip. “I’m not a total monster.”
“You’d have let me die.” Angry and surprised when tears clogged her throat, Beckett took another gulp of water.
Ryan met her eyes, his own showing sympathy for the first time. “I wouldn’t have liked it.”
Her voice a whisper, she asked the one question she had to have the answer to. “Why did you do all of this?”
“I don’t know. It started off kinda fun. Alana and I were separated when you and I met. Not that we weren’t together romantically, but separated geographically. She was in Atlanta; I was in Texas. When I met you, I wanted you. Then I had you, and I wanted more. When I was getting deployed, I wasn’t ready to be done with you, so we married and I took you with me. Truth be told, I figured you weren’t cut out to be a military wife and it’d be real easy to get rid of you.”
He rubbed his hands over his face, looking sad for the first time and giving Beckett a small flicker of hope that who she’d thought he was wasn’t completely a lie. He took a deep drink of beer and stared into the glass for a moment, giving the impression of gathering his thoughts.
“But then you got pregnant. My parents were involved at that point, and I was stuck. Alana was pissed, she dumped me, so I figured I’d try to make it work with you. When I got back to Atlanta, she and I made up, and I met Elaina.” His gaze soft and voice gentle, Ryan continued. “I’ve never been one interested in monogamy, Beck. Most people don’t agree with me, or say they don’t, and it was easier to lie than to deal with everyone bitching at me about everyone else. Having a few girlfriends, being able to get whatever kind of sex I wanted whenever I wanted it is what kept me a good husb
and and dad for you, a good husband and dad for Elaina, and a good husband for Alana.”
Beckett gripped the table hard. “That’s not good enough. You don’t get to make this about some way for you to be a better partner. You abandoned three children who needed you. You left Elaina drug-addled, and me penniless and pregnant. All because you’d dug a hole you couldn’t get out of.”
“In retrospect, getting involved with the Malatoas wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had. It certainly wasn’t my best moment when I decided to steal from them and lie to the feds. I made some mistakes which cost me. But it’s working out for the best. You’re happy, the kids are happy, and as soon as you give me those numbers, I’ll get the Malatoas off our asses and we’ll all be able to move on.”
Beckett narrowed her eyes. “What are the numbers?”
“Locations of all the warehouses the Malatoas’ store their drugs in. I found the one in Colombia and memorized it—that’s the email password. The others I wrote down and hid. I was afraid I’d get them mixed up if I tried to remember too much all at once, and even one digit wrong can mess things up with coordinates. I needed to be exact.” The easy grin back on his face, Ryan took a drink of beer. “Oh, and I’ll need the cocaine, too.”
Beckett’s eyes widened. “The what? I don’t have any cocaine!”
“Sure you do. I got back into the U.S after I died, and went straight to our house, broke in, and hid my haul inside the sofa. I figured it would be safe there. Even if you got rid of it, I installed a tracking device with the drugs so I’d always know where they were. You did exactly what I expected and put the couch in storage.” Ryan offered a wide smile. “I was hoping you might hand over the key so I can go collect what I need. Once I have that and the coordinates, I’m going to bribe, blackmail, or threaten whomever I need to in order to get the cartel off both our asses, even if it’s the feds.”
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