Hard As It Gets

Chapter 15

The warm weight was the first thing Becca noticed. All along her side, on her shoulder, covering her thigh. She didn’t want to open her eyes and chase away the dream of lying so close to Nick, because there was no way it was real.

Except the more she woke up, the more she realized she wasn’t imagining it. His jeans, his skin, his heartbeat all truly pressed against her. Sometime during the night, Nick Rixey had made himself into a blanket, and she was the beneficiary of his covering heat.

Judging by the numbness of her arm, his head had been resting on her shoulder for a while. She turned her face toward him and her cheek found the soft unruliness of his hair. A smile crept over her face. Here he’d insisted on clinging to the edge of the mattress when they’d gotten in bed, but he’d sought her out in his sleep and curled up against her.

And curled up was the right way to describe it. His head on her shoulder, his leg over her thigh, his arm stretched over her stomach and his big hand tucked under her hip. Like he wanted to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.

It was actually kinda sweet. Not at all a description she’d usually apply to Nick, with all his rough edges and gruff moods and serious intensity.

Opening her eyes to the gray light of early morning skirting in around the blinds, Becca soaked in the amazing image of Nick’s body sprawled all over hers. Man, that gave her some ideas she wouldn’t mind bringing to reality. Him, over her, moving, taking, claiming.

The way she wanted him was crazy. She knew it was. After all, she’d only known him a few days. But that didn’t make it any less real. At twenty-eight, she’d never felt anything like the passionate urges he seemed to wring out of her with just a look or a touch, and who knew if she’d find another man capable of making her feel this way again. He was quintessentially masculine and quietly powerful and arrogantly commanding—sometimes to the point where she wanted to throttle him. But mostly, her body reacted to these qualities as if they were a gypsy healer’s most potent aphrodisiac, mysterious and irresistible and maybe a little dangerous, too.

Becca rubbed her hand over her face, hoping the coolness of her palm might ease the sudden heat flooding her cheeks, not to mention elsewhere. It was no use, though, because as long as this much of him was touching this much of her, desire and lust would rush through her until she was nearly mad with the aching need for him to fill her up in any and every way he could.

Maybe that should embarrass her. But it didn’t. Even if it had been a while since she’d last had it, she’d always liked sex. And there wasn’t a part of her that doubted that sex with Nick Rixey would be absolutely mind-blowing. The only question was why he kept pulling back, when it seemed clear he was interested.

If there was one thing all the losses in her life had taught her it was that life was short, fleeting, and way too precious to waste waiting around for happiness to hit you over the head and make itself known. Happiness wasn’t something you found, happiness was something you made—by living in the moment, by cherishing the people in your life right now, by finding the courage to change those things you didn’t like. She hadn’t always gotten it right the last year or two, and that had to change. Starting now.

As these thoughts raced through her mind, a familiar pang of guilt settled in her heart for Charlie. But they would find him. She absolutely refused to entertain any other outcome. And, then, maybe after . . .

Yeah. After.

Nick shifted, rolling closer, if that was possible, and her just barely restrained lust broke free. The change in his position brought his erection against her hip. And, Jesus, he was big. Imagining taking all that masculine flesh into her hands, her mouth, her core had her suddenly light-headed, despite lying down. As if that weren’t enough, when he’d moved closer, the thick cords of his thigh had pressed squarely against the junction of her legs. Summoning all her willpower, she forced herself to lie perfectly still. Because if she lifted her hips even an inch, the friction of his body pressing so intimately and deliciously against her clit would make her come.

He sniffed and murmured, and his breathing slowly changed from the slow, shallow draws of sleep to the deeper pattern of wakefulness. “What are you thinking so hard about?” he said, his voice a seductive, raw gravel.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

“Bad liar, remember?”

She smiled. Not even awake and he was already a smart-ass. “You’re laying on me.”

He lifted his head, eyes still soft with sleep and oh so bright. “Er, oh, God, Bec—”

“Don’t move, please? I wasn’t complaining.”

“Then what—”

“It’s just . . .” The way he was looking at her, half concerned, half like he might make her every dream come true, had her spilling a fast stream of honesty that was about five point two light-years beyond oversharing. “I’m horny. And you’re hot as hell. And we’re clearly trying to be good. Although, I’m not sure why, exactly. And, anyway, I don’t want you to move. Because I like the feel of you. And I—”

His mouth swallowed the rest of the nonsense spilling from her lips. The kiss was aggressive and needful, his tongue twining with hers, his hands in her hair, his chest atop her breasts. For a long moment, she was so stunned by the kiss that all she could do was give in to the sensual assault. His leg pressed between her legs, hard against her clit, the bunching and shifting of his muscles shoving her step by step closer to the edge of restraint. A stream of moans and whimpers worked their way up her throat until finally she couldn’t stop her hips from dancing against his thigh.

“Nick,” she rasped around the edge of a kiss. “Oh, God.”

“What?” he said, pulling back. He stroked his nose over her cheek to her ear. “What’s the matter?” He eased his thigh away.

Her whimper was full of protest for the loss of him. The sexy bastard chuckled. “Don’t stop,” she managed.

Tracing his tongue around the shell of her ear, he rocked his hips against her nice and slow. “Don’t stop what?”

Becca swallowed roughly, arousal making it hard to breathe, hard to think. “You’re teasing me.”

He chuffed out another small laugh in her ear, casting shivers over her skin. “I am.”

Digging her fingers into his hair, she grasped two handfuls and held tight. “Well, don’t. I want . . .”

Nick’s tongue was in her mouth again, exploring every wet corner and stealing her breath. He pulled back, panting. “What? What do you want, sunshine?”

The nickname tugged her heart into the action, too. Did he realize he said it? “I like when you call me that.”

He bit her bottom lip and tugged, his gaze boring into hers, one eyebrow arched. “What do you want?”

She pulled his wrist from her face and guided his hand to the heat between her legs. With only her panties separating his skin from hers, no doubt he could feel it.

“Jesus,” he ground out, his forehead falling upon hers and those bright green eyes absolutely on fire. “You want to come?”

“Yes.”

Nodding against her face, he whispered, “Yeah. And I want you to come.” He devoured her in a kiss and hooked a thumb in the lacy band of her panties. Slowly, he pushed them down to her knees, then she curled her legs and he pulled them the rest of the way off.

Nick kissed her again, and there was nothing tentative about the way he worked his mouth. The passion with which he tasted her with his lips and tongue, and nipped with his teeth, and caressed with his hands was all-consuming. Appreciative little grunts and moans worked up from the back of his throat, like he was eating the finest meal after a long fast. She was lost to him. “You need this, don’t you?”

“So much, Nick.” Emotion rose up within her, tightening around her throat and pricking at the back of her eyes. She wasn’t sure exactly what caused it, but suddenly she was absolutely overwhelmed with sensation and desire. “I need you.”

He kissed her jaw, her throat, her collarbones, and then he pulled her shirt up and off and exposed her breasts. More of those appreciative noises spilled from him as he drew himself atop her to kiss and lick and suck at her flesh.

His hand dragged downward and cupped her core. The sprinting beat of her heart made it hard to breathe. “Already so wet.” He swiped his tongue over her bottom lip. “Is that for me?”

Jesus. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, for you.”

“Damn straight.” His middle finger sank deep. Throwing her head back into the pillow, she cried out, one hand fisting in the covers, the other digging into the muscles of his shoulder. He fingered her slow, letting her get used to his presence deep inside, and soon she rocked her hips to urge him to give her more. He did. For a moment, he pulled all the way out, then he slid back in with his middle and ring fingers together. The man had big freaking hands, and his fingers stretched and filled her until her blood hummed and raced. He flicked her clit with his thumb, once, twice, and an orgasm crashed over her, catching her off guard, contracting her muscles, sending her flying. She slammed her thighs closed around his hand and arm, hoping she could hold him there forever. He growled. “That one was too easy. Again.”

Dizziness threatened. “I can’t—”

“You will.” Withdrawing his hand from inside her, he pushed her legs open and crawled between them. His big shoulders overflowed the space between her thighs. “I have to taste you.”

He tilted her hips up with his hands and dragged his tongue through her folds. Becca cried out, one hand darting to his hair and holding tight. His tongue was relentless, licking, stroking, penetrating, circling until she was pure overloaded sensation. Too much, too much, it’s too much. But it was like he was in charge of her body and it bent to his will. Arousal shot through her again, more intense, more demanding. He flicked and sucked at her clit and slid his fingers deep inside again. The combination shoved her toward the edge.

Panting and moaning, her body tightened, sensation gathered, and pressure built . . . but then she hung there. For a long moment, she was suspended until she was holding her breath and gritting her teeth.

“Come all over my fingers,” he ordered against her lips. And then he focused on her clit with a series of fast, hard licks. She came in a flash of blinding light that momentarily sucked in on itself before exploding outward in a million pieces. She moaned and thrashed beneath him and finally tugged at his hair to get him to stop.

In a flash of movement, he rose up over her and claimed her mouth in a hard kiss. “I want you, Becca.”

Elation roared through her. “Yes.”

Rising out of bed, he kicked off his jeans and boxers. His cock jutted out, long and thick. His body was lean, strong, all hard planes and cut muscles. Ink marked his skin in more places than she’d previously seen, but then he was rolling on a condom and dragging her hips to the edge of the bed. “I want to be able to see you.” He took himself in hand and dragged his tip through her folds, his face a gorgeous mask of lust and desire. “Sure this is okay?” he asked, his voice a raw scrape.

“More than okay. I want you, too.”

He pushed inside, slowly filling her with a delicious pressure. She moaned, unable to look away from the roiling heat in his eyes. Finally, his gaze moved from her face to where he penetrated her, his eyes absolutely on fire. Something snapped inside him. Holding her hips in a tight grip, he withdrew and thrust, his rhythm hard, fast, almost frantic. The intensity was mind-blowing and sent her flying. She grasped the edge of the mattress to keep herself in place against the demanding pace.

On a groan, he fell forward, bracing himself above her with one hand and grabbing her shoulder with the other, his hips flying. The change in position pushed him deeper inside her and dragged his body tight and hard over her clit. God, the way he moved, like a great wave rolling up over her, covering her, claiming her. She was awash in sensation—the incredible fullness between her legs, his heat on her skin, his tight grip. “So fucking good,” he said, meeting and holding her gaze. His face was all hard angles and utterly appealing. “I can’t hold back.”

She smiled. “Don’t try to.”

Holding her tight, he hammered into her, and then he unleashed a guttural shout and came. His muscles rigid, he moved through the orgasm, pulsing inside her, the ecstasy of his expression one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen.

His whole body went loose and he eased his chest atop hers, his forehead resting on hers with his eyes closed. For a moment, they lay like that, their breathing evening out, their bodies cooling. She stroked her hands over his sides and back.

She would hold him like this all day.

So much for waiting until after all this was over. But Becca couldn’t bring herself to regret being with him, because it made her feel all the more that they were in this thing together.

He kissed her, a gentle show of appreciation, then he pushed himself up and withdrew.

Becca frowned. Because the withdrawal wasn’t just physical. As he dealt with the condom and tugged his jeans on again, he didn’t look at her, didn’t talk to her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. She pushed into a sitting position and hugged her knees in front of her. “Hey,” she said.

“We should get moving. You want the shower first or should I?”

NICK AND BECCA sat on either side of the sketch artist in Miguel’s office as the image of her attacker came to life in black and white. The guy was good—had to give him that. And, thank fuck, because at least something was going right for him so far today.

Rixey shifted in his seat and chanced a glance at Becca, who’d worn a frown on her pretty face ever since he’d shut down on her after they’d had sex. Damn incredible sex. But, goddamnit, he hadn’t meant for that to happen. She’d just been so warm, and sexy, and honest about what she’d wanted, what she’d been feeling. It had felt so good not to be alone. He hadn’t been able to hold back. And he’d done exactly what he’d said he wouldn’t.

Too much stood between them, things he couldn’t and shouldn’t say. And he was far too fucked in the head with grief and loss and guilt. She deserved so much fucking better than that, than him. When his brain had come back online, he’d been so angry at himself he’d barely been able to breathe. Still was. And just like he’d said, Becca was paying the price by being hurt and confused. No fucking hero here, that was for sure.

Problem was, he wanted more with her. Maybe he even wanted it all with her. Bringing her pleasure and seeing her shatter in his arms had given him such satisfaction, like making her happy gave him some kind of meaning in what had become a meaningless existence. If he thought he’d felt close to her last night, it was nothing compared to what sharing her body made him feel.

Whole. Lighter. Not alone.

Sonofabitch. After all the ways he’d failed others he cared about, he wasn’t worthy of feeling the solace she gave.

And if fucking up with Becca wasn’t bad enough, the team had been as pissy with him this morning as they’d been last night. At least they’d gone their separate ways to put their plan into action, with Easy going to the airport to pick up Marz and Shane and Beckett canvassing Charlie’s neighbors. So, until they all met up again, he had a short reprieve from the guys.

But Becca was a different story. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make that snafu better, or whether he even should. It sucked ass to contemplate, but maybe he should just allow the discomfort to fester between them. It’d make it a helluva lot easier to keep his dick and his hands in check if she wasn’t looking at him with those bright blue eyes so filled with invitation and interest. Now, when they looked at him at all, they were filled with hurt and regret.

And damn if that didn’t give him a major check to the gut.

“All right,” the artist said. “What do you think of him now? Any changes?”

They leaned in and Rixey looked to Becca. She returned the glance. It was the first time she’d met his eyes since she’d slid off his bed and walked naked out of his bedroom, her body still flush and so beautiful in the morning light. He nodded.

A moment later, her eyes pulled away from him and focused on the sketch. “That’s him.”

“I agree,” Nick said. The bastard’s face was clear in his mind. But little else. “Becca, what about tattoos? Any chance you remember any of the guy’s tats?”

“He had a lot of them on his arms and neck.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. That little frown took up residence between her brows. When her eyes opened again, she shook her head. “I first noticed him when he crossed the room. I saw the tattoos, but I wasn’t really paying attention, you know?”

“Anything at all could be useful,” Rixey said. “Don’t worry about remembering everything.”

“Okay.” She fingered the pale blue shirt over her left bicep. “He had a scar or a brand here, but most of it was hidden beneath his sleeve. Um . . . Oh, on the back of his left hand he had a solid black square. This isn’t very helpful, is it?”

“It’s a start, Becca, and it’s more than we had. What about when he was holding you? Did you get a closer look at his ink then?”

Her gaze went unfocused, and he hated that she was putting herself back in that place again, even if only mentally. She gasped. “He had a cross on his right arm, from inside his elbow down. The ends were pointed like arrowheads, and in the background there was a circle or a halo made of tiny circles, like a chain.”

The artist started sketching and asking for any other details she might’ve noticed.

The image took form on the paper, and Becca nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. As far as I can remember, that’s pretty close.”

“That was great, Becca,” the man said. He quickly drew a square. “I’ll include this image, too. Looking at this much of it might jog your memory.”

When the artist departed, Miguel congregated them around his desk and pulled up the online crime identification database he’d mentioned the night before. For a frustrating hour he flipped through pages on known Maryland criminal outfits and gangs—mafia families of various ethnicities, street gangs, prison gangs, outlaw motorcycle gangs, gangs native to Baltimore and those that had spread their influence from other cities.

They came to the end of the data. “Nothing here connects this cross tattoo to any of these groups.” She sagged back in her chair.

“Maybe not,” Miguel said. “But between the sketch and the tats you remembered, at least you have a few things to show around and see if people recognize.” He nailed Rixey with a serious stare. “Just remember, whoever he is and whoever he works for, asking questions could stir up a bee’s nest.”

“Yeah.” Precisely why Nick felt like they were dealing with the tip of an iceberg, with a hulking mountain of killer ice hidden beneath the surface.

“Should we put both Charlie’s picture and this man’s sketch on the reward poster?” she asked. “I’m so mad at myself for not making one sooner.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Miguel said. “And, listen, don’t do that to yourself. Way I understand it, you didn’t have confirmation there was any foul play to Charlie’s person until last night. Rewards offerings like this can be useful, but they also bring in a lot of false leads. You have the manpower to work through that now, but you didn’t have it a few days ago.”

Seeing an opening to rebuild a bridge, Nick grasped her hand. “I agree. You’re doing great, Becca. Charlie’s lucky to have you fighting for him.”

Her eyes went glassy, but she managed a small smile. “Thank you.” She nodded. “I needed that.”

Guilt squeezed tight bands around Nick’s heart. What she didn’t need was him screwing with her emotions the way he had this morning.

Miguel turned to his computer, clearly giving them the privacy he could in his small office. After a moment he said, “All right, kids. Just tell me what you want on the flyer.”

“What amount do you think would be effective?” she asked, her expression serious.

“Depends what you can afford,” Miguel said. “Not unusual to see rewards for a hundred dollars on up.”

“Five hundred? A thousand? Given what you found in my house, Charlie may not have a lot of time.” She glanced between them. “Make it a thousand.”

Thirty minutes later, they had half a ream of MISSING PERSON: REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO DISCOVERY OR ARREST flyers listing the number of a prepaid phone Miguel had given them for this purpose. Becca was chomping at the bit to start posting them.

“Before we do that,” Nick said, “let’s go back to Hard Ink and catch up with Derek. He should be here by now. Before we start inviting calls, I want his input on how to track the numbers the calls are coming from.”

Her shoulders drooped, but she nodded. “Okay.”

On the way back, Nick called the others and informed them of the rendezvous, but he and Becca were the first ones to return to the building, even after stopping to pick up some pizza. They ducked in the back of Hard Ink, Becca wanting to make sure the puppy wasn’t causing any problems for Jeremy.

Both Jer and Jess were with clients, but Jeremy heard the door and popped out of his room, mask and gloves still on. “I rescheduled for eight o’clock tonight,” he said, referring to the appointment Nick had had to move from this morning.

He’d felt bad about pushing it back, but he could hardly sit around and do tattoos while the rest of the team and Becca got to work. “Okay, thanks. And sorry.”

Jeremy nodded.

“How’s the puppy doing? Is she in your way?” Becca asked, bending down to pet her. Rixey had to admit the mutt was kinda cute with those monster ears and paws.

“No, she’s awesome. She slept most of the morning directly between our doors like she didn’t want to play favorites. Needs a name though.”

“I know,” Becca said. “What about Shiloh?”

Above his mask, Jeremy’s eyebrows cranked down. “Like the Civil War battle?”

She laughed, and Nick was so drawn to the sound. He wished he’d been the one to cause it. “Just try it out for now. See how she likes it.”

He winked. “I’ll have a full report waiting for you. Hey, so, what do you think?” He gestured to the front of his shirt. “Told you I’d wear one for you.”

“What’s it say?” She walked closer, and it was crystal clear the moment she read his Big Johnson Tattoo Parlor shirt, with its iconic cartoon character tattooing a naked woman’s back. Her mouth dropped open on a gasp. “I can’t believe you wear that.”

“Well”—he waggled his eyebrows over the mask—“it’s only fair to warn people.” The shirt read, “You’re gonna feel more than a Little Prick.”

She pressed her lips together like she was trying to hold back her laughter, but humor absolutely danced in those blue eyes. “I think you might be a bad influence on my baby.” Becca leaned down and covered the dog’s ears. The puppy tried to gnaw on her hand.

Jeremy scoffed. “You wound me. I may never recover.” He retreated toward his room and pointed at Nick. “I gotta get back to it. Eight p.m. Don’t forget.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rixey said. It’s on the list.

Becca ran Shiloh-for-now outside for a quick business trip, then they left the dog to nap and play in the shop while they went upstairs to wait for the others. Nick placed the pizza boxes, paper plates, and canned sodas on the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, retreating down the hall without waiting for him to respond.

Bracing his hands on the counter, he watched her walk away, that boulder making its presence known on his chest again. Pissed at himself as he was, he didn’t want her hurting. Before they had an audience, he followed her back to the room.

Not thinking, he pushed through the mostly closed office door and inhaled to speak her name, but the word died on his throat.

She stood in the bathroom doorway naked from the waist up, except for a pale yellow and white lace bra. The yellow looked so pretty against her skin, and the lace curving over the swells of her breasts tempted his fingers, his tongue.

He was immediately hard.

“Uh, sorry,” he murmured, turning at a ninety-degree angle from her and diverting his gaze to the floor.

She gasped. “Shit. Do you realize you make, like, no noise when you move?”

He scrubbed his hand over his hair and willed his libido under control. This was the damn problem in a nutshell. “Sorry. Old habit.” He caught movement in his peripheral vision but didn’t let himself look.

“Yeah. My dad was the same freaking way.”

And there went the erection.

“It’s so nice out, I was worried I’d be too warm in long sleeves. Did you need something?” she asked, stepping into the office in a short-sleeved shirt. With a flash of her hands, she twisted her long hair up on top of her head and used a band to hold it up off her neck.

He gave a tight nod and forced himself to focus despite the fact that the lacy bra remained visible through the white V-neck. “I need to apologize.”

Emotion flickered over her expression, but she just looked at him.

“I was an ass and I didn’t mean—”

“Look—” She shook her head and stepped to the door. “Let’s not do this. Okay? I’m not going to lie, you hurt my feelings. But, in the end, it was a good thing. Because you reminded me I need to stay focused on Charlie. I can’t be distracted by anything else. So don’t sweat it.”

Voices sounded from the living room, and Nick frowned. The words should’ve given him relief. She’d let him off the hook and wanted bygones to be bygones. But there was that damn boulder again. “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”

Anticipation filled his gut as they entered the living room. Standing in the middle of Shane, Easy, and Beckett was Derek DiMarzio, looking about a hundred times better than the last time Nick had seen him. His brown hair had grown out to the length of his jaw, and his shoulders appeared bulkier under his shirt. Hell, he looked downright fit and healthy, maybe even like he had a bit of a tan. Most noticeably, he was standing on his own two feet. Or, presumably, his own foot and a prosthesis.

Nick walked right up to him and held out a hand. “Thanks for coming, man. You look great.”

Marz wore his trademark smile, just one watt dimmer than a full-on grin, and returned the shake. “I feel great. Nice to see you. Thanks for giving us a reason to get back together.”

Rixey felt the unspoken sarcasm radiating from the other three, but he let it go. Hard not to feel a healthy dose of positivity and gratitude in the face of someone like Marz, who had suffered the most catastrophic injuries of any of them yet seemed to have the best attitude.

“Come on in. Grab some slices and let us catch you up.”

“I just dumped my gear there,” he said, pointing to a stack of cases by the front door. “That kosher?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Marz crossed to the kitchen with barely a limp, and Rixey wasn’t ashamed to admit that emotion threatened to choke him up. He looked at the other guys and realized they were watching Marz, too, and in that moment they were united in their admiration for the teammate they all remembered lying in pieces on the war-torn ground. Nick had been the closest to Marz and Murda when the grenade had shot into their position. Marz had seen the writing on the wall a split second before his teammate and had shoved him out of the way. The explosion had taken both men down, Murda’s leg mangled and Marz’s gone from below the knee.

By that time, Rixey had already taken two rounds in the lower back, but Marz’s leg had fountained blood. So Nick had dragged himself over, torn the Afghani scarf he’d bought at a bazaar on base from around his neck, and balled it against the wound. Their medic had already been taken out, so Shane had gone to work on the pair of them while Nick had pitched in how he could. Easy, Axton, and Harlow had provided them cover, but only Easy had survived.

Man, Rixey had done them all a disservice by dropping off the face of the earth. All this time, they’d needed each other. They’d needed to know how everyone was doing and handling the multitude of shit hands they’d been dealt. They’d needed to draw strength and determination and resolve from the one place that had always given them those things—their team. Damnit all to hell and back. He had failed them.

When a man wore the Special Forces tab on his uniform, he held himself to a higher standard. Marz was clearly living up to it. Nick wasn’t.

That changed now. No more excuses. No more burying his head in the friggin’ sand. No more cutting himself off.

Marz opened a lid and grabbed two slices. He turned and looked at them all. “What?”

The question flipped a switch in the rest of them. Suddenly they were all making small talk and gathering around the chow.

“Nothing,” Nick said, joining him at the bar. He handed plates to Becca and the other guys. “Marz, I want you to meet Becca Merritt. It’s her brother, Charlie, we’re looking for.”

Nick saw the momentary calculus flash through Marz’s gaze, but it was nothing Becca would pick up on. “Becca. Wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” he said.

She smiled, right away more at ease around Derek than she’d been around the others so far. “You, too.”

Once everyone had food, they took up spots around the living room, the guys filling the couches and chairs and Becca and Marz kneeling on the floor at the coffee table despite everyone’s offers to give up their seats.

Rixey caught Marz up on the details of what’d happened before his arrival, then asked everyone to report on what they’d learned in the morning.

“We canvassed Charlie’s street and talked to some neighbors, though the man who lives upstairs wasn’t home,” Shane said, looking at Becca. She nodded. “No witnesses, but one person told us Charlie cabbed everywhere. It’s not a neighborhood where cabs regularly drive through looking for fares, so he would’ve had to call. There are a lot of taxi services in this city, but assuming he went with one of the bigger ones, we’re talking about doing follow-up with eight to ten.”

“He got rid of his car a few years ago. He didn’t use it much and didn’t like that it made his movement easy to track.” Becca looked at Marz with a twist of her lips. “He could be a bit paranoid.”

“Not unusual among hackers, especially good ones, which it sounds like he must be if he’s making a decent living white hattin’ it.” She frowned, and Marz added, “Meaning hacking for nonmalicious reasons. Getting paid by corporations to do it for security testing.” All this was right up Derek’s alley. Computer security, surveillance, and investigations were some of his specialties. He liked tech and he liked toys and he liked to talk about them and explain them until your ears bled with an utter lack of understanding. But you went along with it because he was scary brilliant. “So, we need into phone records, dispatch records, what else? Credit card records? Any of his equipment available to scan?”

“No,” Becca said. “All his machines were gone. Or taken.”

Marz pursed his lips. “I brought some high-powered gear, but a lot of what we’re talking about is usually subpoena territory. What’s the thinking?”

Rixey filled him in on what Miguel had learned and met Becca’s fretful gaze, knowing she was worried about them on this point. But it couldn’t be helped. “We’re off the grid on this.”

Derek nailed him with a stare, his brain clearly chewing on the idea behind his dark brown eyes. “Given everything that’s at stake, I’m okay with that.”

With Marz, things were always that easy. And it helped that he had the skills to make it happen, with or without permission.

But it also meant they were officially operating outside the law.

Nick filled Marz in on Becca’s plan to post a reward, and the man scrambled up off the ground, crossed the room, and grabbed a bag off the pile. He knelt on the floor next to Becca and pulled a laptop free of the case. “I need to write all this down. Make a list of tasks and equipment.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled at Becca as the machine booted up, enthusiasm pouring off him.

She grinned, then did a double take at something behind him.

When he’d taken a knee, his pants leg had ridden up, revealing the metal pylon of the prosthesis on his right leg. Marz glanced her way again and saw her looking.

“AK or BK?” she asked, diving right into the subject none of the men had yet broached. And damn if that didn’t impress him.

“Below the knee.” He patted the shank. “Got my own hardware now, complete with shocks and microprocessors. Actually, this is one of four.”

“Why so many?”

He ticked off on his fingers. “One for running, one for rough terrain, one for street wear, a waterproof one for showering.”

“You’re running?” Beckett asked, his expression a careful mask.

“Dude, I’m running an eight-minute mile,” he said. Pride in his friend flooded through Rixey. Marz was a damned inspiration. That much was sure. “All right, here we go.” Marz’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Most of the time, Beckett kept things battened down inside, not showing much reaction one way or the other. It was part of the reason their fight had caught Nick off guard last night. But Nick saw emotion surface in the other man’s eyes, guilt and grief warring with gratitude and admiration. Rixey didn’t shy away from it, though. He held Beck’s gaze and willed him to know he was there for him. Damnit, Murda, it wasn’t your fault.

All of a sudden, Becca pushed up from the table. “Anyone want another slice?” she asked, skirting around Nick’s chair as a few of the guys called out affirmatives. She went straight to the sink and turned on the faucet, but then she just stood there.

Rixey frowned as he watched her. And then he saw it. Her shoulders shaking, just the smallest bit. Was she crying?

Torn between giving her privacy and aching to know what had upset her, he eased out of his chair and grabbed another slice for himself, making plenty of noise with the box so she knew he was there. She stiffened and wiped at her face, then washed and dried her hands.

When she turned, he was right there. She tried to look away, but he grabbed her chin with his fingers. God, he wanted to kiss her, kiss away whatever had caused the sadness behind those baby blues. Emotion played over her face, like she didn’t know what to say or maybe was afraid to say anything at all. And, okay. He’d really just wanted her to know he was there for her. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment so he could breathe her sweetness in, then stepped away. He grabbed his plate and returned to his seat.

A few minutes later, she was delivering slices to everyone who’d asked for more and resuming her place beside Marz. “What is all that?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Equipment I might need.”

She blew out a breath and surveyed the group. “Whatever any of this costs, none of it is coming out of your pockets. If you say we need it, we’ll get it. And I’ll figure that part of it out.”

Nick frowned. He could guess what professional-grade computer and surveillance equipment might cost, and it wasn’t chump change. Besides, if his suspicions were right, they were getting as much out of this as she and Charlie were. Maybe more. “Becca—”

“No, I mean it. I have a decent savings tucked away. This is more than a good enough reason to use it.”

The men nodded, and Rixey let it go for now. He could tell in the looks they exchanged between themselves that she’d earned a notch of respect, first for addressing Marz’s amputation head-on, and then for this. Damn, there was just so much to admire about this woman.

“You got a place for me to set up shop, Rix?” Marz asked. “I’m going to need workspace for several computers and some equipment, lots of outlets, and internet access.”

Nick frowned, thinking the problem through, then nodded. “Probably not ideal, but I’ve got a gym across the hall. The whole back corner is totally open. It’s all wired for cable and internet, otherwise the space is rough.”

“Secure?”

“Completely.”

Marz shrugged. “I’m easy.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Easy said.

“Heard that about both of you,” Shane said.

Marz barked out a laugh. “Fucker.” His head whipped toward Becca. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I can handle some ‘fucks.’ ” And damn if she didn’t wink, knowing full well what she’d just said. Didn’t look his way, though.

“Well, fuck, then,” Marz said, grinning. The guys laughed. Rixey shifted in his seat, her words sending his brain in all kinds of directions it did not need to go. “All right. I just emailed this list to myself. So let’s go do some toy shopping and get this show on the road.”