Hard As It Gets

Chapter 18

Becca looked from Jeremy to Nick, unsure what to say. A small sense of Oh shit slithered through her belly, because Jer’s questions made it clear Nick hadn’t filled him in on what was going on. Whatever his approach to this, though, it wasn’t for her to say. “Maybe I should—”

“Stay,” they both said.

She lowered back into her seat. “Oookay.”

Nick quickly cleaned up his table and supplies. “Here’s the deal,” he said. “You know about as much as you should probably know. Becca thinks she might’ve seen a tattoo like one of those on the guy who grabbed her.” He washed and dried his hands.

Jer scoffed. “Nick, these are gang tats. And not just any gang. The Church is about as bad as they get. Drugs, guns, prostitutes, you name it. What the hell?”

“How do you know so much about them?” Nick’s eyebrows slashed down.

“There are dozens of gangs in this city. They all use tattoos for identification. Most of them have guys do it in-house, others find tattoo parlors and sorta claim them for their gang. I never knowingly do a gang tattoo, but that means I have to be familiar with what they look like and who they represent.”

Damn, his brother was smart. Nick nodded, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Interesting, but I want to keep you out of this, Jeremy. You hear what I’m saying?”

“I think you’re the one who’s got a problem with his hearing. Whatever this is”—he held up the papers again—“you need to stay way clear of it.”

Lips pressed in a tight line, Nick landed his pale green gaze on her, and she hated that her situation might cause tension between them. Bad enough Jeremy was already mad at Nick for being late.

“I can’t,” Nick said. “We can’t.” He nodded to Becca.

Jeremy turned to her, and she saw in his face the moment it clicked. Her stomach squeezed. “The Church has your brother?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, he plowed forward. “What are the cops doing?” His face went pale. “Oooh, shit a fucking brick.” He dug his hand into his hair and flicked at the piercing on his lip. “This is why your team is here?”

Nick gave a tight nod.

“Why . . . what are you . . . ? I—”

“Cops involved in this are dirty, Jer. And that’s the last fucking thing I’m telling you.” Nick slipped the pages from his brother’s hand.

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t deserve to know you’re playing Rambo out of my house?”

Becca rose, guilt sloshing into her stomach. She hadn’t just crashed into Nick’s life, had she? What if she’d brought danger right to Jeremy—and Jess’s—doorstep? Ears back, tail down, the puppy came to the doorway behind Jeremy and whined. After a moment, she laid down with her head on her paws against Jer’s foot.

“You deserve to know it all. But the less you know, the better. So you’re out.” Nick slashed a hand through the air, as if the debate had been decided.

Jeremy shook his hair out of his eyes and glared. “I’m not some fucking kid, Nick. I’m a thirty-one-year-old man. At the very least, you should’ve told me so I could keep an eye out for any kind of trouble. I may not be a soldier, but I could help—”

“You’re right. And maybe I should’ve said something more sooner, but we didn’t really know what we might be dealing with until this evening. And we’re still not a hundred percent sure. You’re not a kid. But here’s what you are: you’re a businessman, you’re an employer, you’re a homeowner. You have things to lose and people who count on you.”

“And you don’t?”

Nick stepped back and tossed the papers to the seat of a chair, then scrubbed his hands through his hair. They both had the tendency to do that, and she might’ve found the similarity endearing if it hadn’t been a reflection of their shared frustration right now. “A lot fucking less than you.”

The bottom dropped out of Becca’s stomach. He didn’t think he had anything to lose? Her and whatever they were or weren’t aside, how could he think that about himself? If Jeremy hadn’t been there, she would’ve run across the room, grabbed his face, and told him—

Jeremy’s hands fisted. “You sonofabitch. You and Katherine are the last family I have on this earth. Don’t you dare talk about yourself as if it wouldn’t matter if something happened to you. It would matter to me.”

At the strain in Jer’s voice, tears pooled in Becca’s eyes, and she looked to the ceiling to pinch them off.

Nick’s shoulders sagged and his voice had a sudden strain to it. “Jeremy—”

“I remember what it was like to get that phone call. You know, the one that said my big brother was in critical condition in a hospital following surgery to repair multiple gunshot wounds to the back. Been there, done that, burned the motherfucking T-shirt. I couldn’t do anything about that. I couldn’t help. But this? Now? I can. And you’re goddamned straight gonna let me.”

For a few tense minutes, they faced off across the room, arms crossed over their chests, pale green eyes narrowed and blazing. She wondered if they had any idea how similar they looked or, really, how much alike they were as men. Both strong, both protective of those they cared about, both stubborn to a fault. In that instant, Becca realized she didn’t just like Jeremy, she cared about him, too. And she could’ve hugged him for the way he cared about Nick.

She released a breath and stepped toward them. “Please don’t fight. I’m sorry,” she said, voice tight, sadness parked at the back of her throat.

“I don’t want to fight,” Jeremy said, expression stormy. “And don’t feel like you have to apologize, Becca. I’m not mad at you. If my brother was missing, I’d go to hell and back to find him, too.” Eyebrow arched, he eyeballed Nick. “But I also don’t want to be shut out.”

“Jesus, Jeremy,” Nick said, scratching at the scruff on his jaws. “I’m trying to protect you. Simple as.”

“It’s a flawed premise, bro. If this situation gets worse, you don’t think that has the chance of affecting me whether you tell me all the details now or not?”

“God . . . damnit.” He pounded a fist on the roll-away tabletop. “Shit we’re doing, we are breaking the law. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“You’re my brother,” Jeremy said.

“And you’re mine.”

“Knock, knock,” a voice said from behind Jeremy. He jerked around as Shane stepped alongside him. “Sorry to interrupt. Uh . . .” Shane glanced between the Rixeys. “When you’re done down here, we have some things we wanted to talk about.”

For a long moment, the tension was so thick it almost changed the physical composition of the air. Nick shook his head. “Shit, I didn’t want this for you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Jer said, crossing the room. “But brotherhood is a two-way street. You have to let me walk it with you.”

Nick blew out a long breath that ended in the word, “Fuck. All right.” He shook his head. “All right. Then let’s go see what’s up.”

“No regrets, remember?” Jeremy knocked his fists together side by side, and for the first time, Becca saw what the block lettering on the backs of his fingers said. Reading across his knuckles from his right pinkie to his left, the letters spelled out N-O-R-E-G-R-E-T. Sometime she’d ask him the story behind that tattoo.

The air was suddenly lighter, easier to breathe, and Becca had the sense that whatever had just passed between them was bigger than this moment, this conflict, this situation. Nick just nodded.

As the guys moved around the space turning off lights and making sure everything was locked up, Nick gave Jeremy the quick highlight reel of the past days’ events to bring him up to speed. She hovered at the door with Shane, waiting for them to finish.

“They okay?” he asked, genuine concern shaping his handsome face and filling his intense gray eyes.

“I think so. I don’t know. I didn’t realize Nick was trying to keep Jeremy out of it.”

Shane nodded. “If I had a brother, I’d have done the same damn thing.” Something flashed through his expression—something dark he quickly masked.

“You have any siblings?” she asked.

A storm moved in over his face, furrowing his brow and making the angles of his face severe and unforgiving. “No.”

It was the most loaded use of that two-letter word she’d possibly ever heard. But everything about his demeanor said, “Topic closed,” so she let it drop. “I’m going to take the dog out before we go upstairs,” she said, patting her hand against her jeans.

“We’re done anyway,” Nick said. They made their way into the stairwell, and Jeremy double-checked that the door to Hard Ink locked behind them.

Becca pushed out the far door and let her girl do her business. The guys stepped outside with them. “You can go up. We’ll be right there,” she said.

“Air feels good after being inside all day,” Jeremy said. Becca couldn’t have agreed more. A soft breeze shifted the cool night air around her. The soft caress on her arms was relaxing, like it was blowing the difficult parts of the day away, just right on off her body.

“What’s the dog’s name?” Shane asked after a minute.

Nick and Jeremy looked at her, then each other, and burst out laughing.

“What?” Shane asked. “What’s so funny?”

She just shook her head, glad to see them moving past the fight.

The guys apparently needed the release, because they quickly moved on from laughter to sputtering hysterics. Jer was actually crying. And every time Nick managed to get himself under control, he burst out again.

And man, that laughter was deep and throaty, so damn sexy. The dimple was carved a mile deep into his cheek, and laugh lines curved up from the corners of his eyes. She wanted to grasp his face in her hands and kiss him until he was panting and gasping for breath for an entirely different reason.

“Here’s what you need to know,” Becca said, distracting herself from the urge to jump Nick just as the dog returned. “Her name’s not Cujo, it’s not Killer, it’s not Tripod, or Three-Speed, Trinity, Skippy, Hoppy—”

“Sneezy, Dopey, Grumpy . . .” Jeremy managed, cracking himself up again.

“It’s also not Shiiiii-looooooooh,” Nick mocked.

Oh, my God, they were all the way over the deep side. Becca rolled her eyes and stepped back inside.

“Uh, okay,” Shane said as they started upstairs, the Rixeys having now devolved into teenaged giggles. Who knew two such big guys could make those high-pitched sounds? “What about Eileen?”

“What?” Becca said, frowning at Shane. “You’re just as bad as—”

The uproarious laughter from behind her made her turn around. Nick had taken a knee on the stairs, and Jeremy was hanging on the railing.

“Ei . . . Ei . . . Ei-leen,” Jeremy gasped. “Get it? Perfect.”

“No, not perfect. Her name is not Eileen.” Becca bit back a smile at their hysterics.

Nick heaved a deep breath and opened his mouth. Not to speak, but to sing. “Come on, Eileen. Oh, I swear what he means, at this mooo-ment, you mean eeeverything.”

Becca put her hand on her forehead and gaped. Nick Rixey was down on his knees singing an eighties anthem to her while laughing and holding his stomach. And it was the sexiest freaking thing she’d ever seen or heard. Even around the ridiculous hilarity, there was no question the boy could sing.

And then the other two idiots joined in.

Out of nowhere, a howling sounded. Becca looked around and found the dog sitting at the very top of the steps, head back, snout pointing to the ceiling, howling in long, loud ahwoooos like she was singing with them.

The door to the gym swung open. “What in the fucking hell?” Beckett asked, Easy and Marz coming out right behind him.

Shaking her head and succumbing to laughter herself, Becca started up the steps. “I broke them. Sorry.”

Beckett eyeballed her like she had three heads. Right. Because she was the crazy one in a roomful of men singing, “Toora, toora, to loora, ay,” at the top of their lungs.

“Hey,” Marz said, sinking into a crouch. “This is my kinda dog. What’s it’s na—”

“No, no, don’t say it!” she said.

Behind her, all three men said, “Eileen” in chorus.

“All right, Eileen.” Marz scooped her into his arms and stood up. She licked his cheek. “You and me are going to get along just fine.” He looked over his shoulder. “Now, come on in, assholes. I’ve got us a plan.” He disappeared inside.

Becca’s shoulders sagged. “Her name’s not Eileen,” she called, but she had a sneaking suspicion that none of them heard her as they all bustled into the gym in a rush.

TEN MINUTES LATER, everyone had calmed down and they stood in the back corner of the gym around Marz’s makeshift computer desks, fashioned out of two eight-foot-long folding tables positioned to form an L. Becca scanned her gaze over his setup.

He had three laptops hooked to a series of cables and boxes she couldn’t identify, plus the smallest printer she’d ever seen. Charlie’s hidden note and the gang booklet lay open near one computer, and pages of notes and printouts lay this way and that. An empty pizza box sat on the floor behind the desk, and a row of diet Coke cans added a splash of color to the array of electronics. It looked like the desk of someone who had worked in this space for years.

He took a seat in the center like a king holding court and dropped the puppy—whose name was definitely not Eileen—to the concrete floor. “Beckett and Shane filled me in on today’s field research, and I’ve scanned most of this book on the Church organization and done some additional research of my own. We are talking some bad-ass shit here.” He looked around the group. “Don’t let the word ‘gang’ make you discount their level of organization, their strength, or their discipline. In the past two years they have destroyed, disbanded, or absorbed three other gangs, expanding their territory substantially. They run eighty percent of the heroin trade in the city, do a fair amount of arms dealing, and appear to have a lot of officials in their pockets. The Church has a sophisticated recruitment system in place and a constant inflow of members. This is organized crime with a capital O and a capital C.”

“Man, I didn’t know shit could be stacked this high,” Shane said.

“Got any good news for us?” Nick asked from next to her. At least she wasn’t the only one who seemed to think the situation seemed more and more impossible. Her stomach flip-flopped when she imagined what their odds were against an organization like that.

“For operational purposes, maybe,” he said, waking up the laptop with the largest monitor. Some of this equipment they’d bought today, but some he’d brought with him. “We’re working on the assumption that the tattoo Becca saw on her assailant belongs to a Churchman. Yes?”

Becca nodded, so frustrated with herself that she couldn’t be definitive when so much hinged on that damn tattoo. “I’m pretty sure, but in fairness I can’t say with total certainty.”

“Mind if I see that?” Jeremy asked, pointing toward the gang booklet. Marz passed it over.

“The fact that the hotel maid associated Charlie’s abductors with being heroin dealers adds another piece of circumstantial evidence,” Nick said.

Marz nodded. “Agreed. Well, then, I propose this lead is worth investigating further until we have something more to go on. It’s gonna take me a while to see if I can work this bank info. Everyone good with that?”

Easy held out his big hands. “You know where I stand. If there’s a chance this is who has Charlie, it makes sense to learn everything we can as soon as we can.”

“I’d rather be doing something than sitting around Fort Living Room,” Shane said. “Besides, we need to figure out the link between this gang and Merritt, assuming there is one.”

Beckett nodded, crossed his big arms, and leveled a thoughtful gaze at Marz. “We’re on board. What is it you have in mind?”

Anticipation sent a shiver down her spine. She glanced to Nick, so appreciating his reassuring smile. She couldn’t begin to express how grateful she was that he was with her in this.

Derek was suddenly a flurry of activity. His fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him for a moment before he shoved a pile of papers aside to clear space on the desk. He slapped down four pieces of paper. “Church has four known front businesses.” He tapped his pointer finger against each sheet as he spoke. “A barbershop, a shipping business and storage facility, a storefront church, of course, and a strip club.”

“How original,” Easy said, leaning in with the other guys around the table’s edge to see what the pages said.

Becca glanced to Jeremy, who’d hung back beside her to study the book like he was trying to catch up to speed. He gave her a small, crooked smile that told her to hang in. It was pretty clear he and Nick were cut from the same good-guy cloth.

Marz pointed to the laptop monitor and shifted sequentially through live images of buildings, headlights flashing across the screen as cars passed by. “I found traffic cameras that give us a visual on three of the four. The barbershop is in the corner of a strip mall, and I haven’t been able to find an eye in the sky on that. Yet.”

“Shit, dude, is there anything you can’t hack?” Beckett asked, admiration clear in his expression.

“Heh. I live for challenge. I propose we put boots on the ground and check each of these out. At the very least, we can plant the electronic surveillance devices we picked up this afternoon and acquire firsthand info on interior physical layout, guard presence, and any special security systems you might be able to identify. Maybe one of you can sex up a waitress at the club and see if she’s heard anything about a missing guy that might’ve found himself on the wrong side of the Churchmen.” He aimed a smile at Shane, and everyone else’s gazes slid his way, too.

Shane’s answering grin was smug as all hell. “You know I’d make any sacrifice for you assholes.” Becca bit back a laugh, but then her mind conjured Nick doing the sexing up of some scantily dressed dancer . . . and that was so not funny.

She studied Nick’s strong profile, jaw tense, eyes narrowed, shoulder muscles bunched. Every inch of him was all business, and it was so sexy. The thought of anyone else’s hands or lips on him didn’t just make her jealous, though her brain buzzed with displeasure. Despite how recently they’d met and how much they still had to learn about one another, her soul looked at this harshly beautiful man and thought, mine. It wasn’t even a conscious thought, really, more a reaction to the intense connection this crazy situation had forged between them. Not to mention a bone-deep wish. She wanted him.

It was that simple and that complex.

As she watched him make plans with his team, her chest suddenly constricted. Because she realized she was looking at someone who had the power to send her flying or crashing from the heights. And, oh God, the more they talked about the possible risks at each of the locations, the more her gut clenched with the understanding of just how much danger they were in, and how much more they might yet face.

And he doesn’t think he has much to lose.

Becca nearly gasped at the memory of his words. She had to tell him. He had her.

Murda cut away from the group, pulling her out of her head. “I’ll be right back,” he yelled, boots echoing off the hard floor as he double-timed it toward the door.

“Probably only need two or three men for this,” Marz said. “I figured I’d stay here to make sure the bugs were coming through loud and clear and look for additional cameras on our hot spots. Too much testosterone traveling together might raise suspicion with these guys. And someone should stay with Becca. Who’s up for some recon?”

“No offense, Marz, but I’ve been your computer bitch all damn day, so I wouldn’t mind a boondoggle,” Easy said with a laugh.

“I’ll stay with Becca,” Nick said, giving her a smile that just hinted at the dimple.

Shane pointed to himself. “You just voluntold me I should go for the sexin’ up.”

“Dude, I got that shit covered, and then some.” Easy winked, and Becca couldn’t help but chuckle. The black Under Armour shirt he wore highlighted every dip and ridge of his muscles. Saying he was impressively built was a gross understatement. No doubt if he and Shane walked into a bar, every other man’s arm in the room would grow cold as the women all drifted their way.

“All right, this doesn’t need to turn into a jack-off contest,” Marz said with a chuckle.

Geez, good thing she didn’t embarrass easily. The people she worked with—doctors and nurses alike—could be some of the most humorously crude people she knew. The high-stress environment of the emergency department demanded the release. If people weren’t having sex in the on-call room, they were at least joking about it.

“Prepare to be impressed, Marz,” Beckett called, returning to the gym. “I have toys.” On the edge of the table, he laid out an oversized tablet with antennae sticking out and several small cell-phone-sized devices.

“Aww, man,” Marz said, picking up the camera like he was Gollum discovering the ring.

“What is it?” Becca asked.

Beckett crossed his arms. “An X-ray camera with see-through-the-wall technology. Can determine a person’s location, speed, and direction through walls as thick as one foot. It’s essentially a radar system that measures changes in WiFi wave frequency. It’s so sensitive, it can tell the difference between an inanimate object and a person’s breathing pattern.”

“This has got to be a pre-market prototype, Beck. You gotta have some good friends doing R&D work. Or are you into testing equipment for law enforcement?”

Beckett smiled. “Let’s leave it at good friends. Here’s what I was thinking—for all of these locations, humans on the main floor make total sense. But this might allow us an eye into the nonpublic spaces of these buildings. If this picks up an identifiably human target, as indicated by breathing patterns, but it remains stationary, that could be our prisoner. Not foolproof by any means, but maybe another way to rule these locations in or out for further investigation.” He grinned at Marz. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“I want to procreate with it.” He winked at Becca, and she adored how easily he could make her smile. “Sorry. I get a little overexcited.”

She just held up her hands and chuckled. Didn’t want to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

“Well, you’ll get a chance to play, because it can send a feed back to your computer, so you can start analyzing the data if you want,” the big guy said. “Just sync the devices.”

“Damn skippy, I want.” Marz rubbed his hands together and dove into setting up the scanner.

Beckett picked up the cell-phone-like devices. “And I brought a couple GPS trackers, too. If we see any vehicles that seem worth tracing, I can attach these and they’ll send an alert to my phone any time the target vehicle moves. Might lead us to other likely stash spots if these turn up empty.”

Easy settled a plastic bag on the desk. “We also have burn phones for everyone. So grab a cell and let’s take a minute to program in each other’s digits.” They all reached in and took turns announcing and programming numbers.

Color her impressed. She never doubted they’d know what they were doing. But imagining it and seeing it were two different things. “You guys are like MacGyver, except instead of paper clips, pocket knives, and rubber bands, you have really cool electronics.”

Everyone except for Marz let out a groan. His face totally lit up. “MacGyver was a god among men.”

Easy rolled his eyes. “Dude, MacGyver had a mullet.”

Marz held up a hand. “I refuse to hear you. Becca, between your three-legged dog and your MacGyver reference, you are officially my favorite person in the room right now.” And there he went, earning another smile from her.

“Hey, I brought toys.” Beckett’s indignant expression was almost comical.

“Fine,” Derek sighed. “It’s a tie.”

Becca smiled at Murda, and he threw her a wink. “Please be careful,” she said, her throat suddenly going tight.

They all nodded and reassured her. Nick stepped in close, his arm against her shoulder. “Watch your sixes out there,” he added. “And thanks.” Something seemed to pass between Nick and the rest of his team, an understanding perhaps. Becca still didn’t understand the latent tension that undergirded most of their interactions, and she was glad to see a bit of détente setting in. Even if it was only temporary, there was too much at stake for all of them for old conflicts to get in the way now.

“Just let me know what order you want to hit the locations, and I’ll play along at home.” Marz waggled his fingers over his desk. “Just remember that the strip club closes at three a.m. That’s probably the only one you’ll be able to get into at night, so make sure you get inside.”

“Oh, we will,” Shane said.

Easy scooped up the paperwork and bag of electronic bugs and shoved Shane toward the door. “Get your southern ass moving, McCallan.”

Beckett pocketed the GPS trackers, tucked the scanner under his arm, and knocked twice on the tabletop. “Luck.”

“Luck, hell,” Easy called. “Carpe scrotum!”

When they disappeared through the door, something almost like peacefulness settled over the cavernous gym. It was like someone turned down the volume on a radio. Becca let out a sigh, because it was very likely the quiet before the storm.

“Hey, Becca,” Marz said. She turned her gaze toward him, surprised to find an unusually serious expression on his face. “I know I cut it up a bit. Just want you to know it’s not because I’m not taking this seriously.”

A warm pressure filled her chest. If she had one thing going for her in all this, it was the complete certainty that she and Charlie were in the best possible hands with Nick and his team. “I never would’ve thought anything else, Derek, but thanks.” Her stomach growled, embarrassingly loud. Marz cocked an eyebrow. “Am I the only one starving?”

Nick squeezed her shoulders from behind. “No. I could eat a horse. Let’s go grab some food. Probably be a while before any intel starts arriving.”

“Yeah, go eat. I chowed earlier. My babies will keep me company,” he said, stroking a hand over the big laptop.

“Jeremy?” she asked.

He’d been unusually quiet since they came upstairs. “No, I ate earlier, too. Mind if I hang here, Derek? I’m curious how all this works.”

“Mi casa es su casa. Well, I guess that’s literally true, isn’t it? Pull up a seat.”

Jeremy swung a folding chair around and sat on it backwards.

Nick wrapped his arm around Becca’s shoulders and they made their way across the gym. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll whip you up some of the meanest reheated pizza you ever had.”