Hard as It Gets (28 page)

Had she said too much? It didn’t seem like she’d made him uncomfortable. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say? Becca sank back into the pillows and watched him look at her. Such a gorgeous man.

“Would you let me do something?” he finally asked, voice low and suddenly serious.

She smiled. “Probably.”

“Be right back.” He pushed off the bed and disappeared into the hallway again. What was he up to? When he returned, he had a fistful of pens.

“What are they for?”

He crawled in bed next to her, then met her gaze.

“I want to draw on you. Bad.” Even in the dim light, his eyes blazed, his expression intense and so damn hungry.

Heat shot through her body, sending a tingle of thrill through her core. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Skin markers.” He held up five pens. “Nontoxic. They’ll wash off. Eventually.” He winked and laid the pens in the crook of skin where her thighs met. “Don’t drop them.”

They were cool against her still-heated flesh. She chuckled, but his enthusiasm was sexy as all hell. “What happens if I do?”

“I’ll have to go exploring for them.” He picked the black marker and uncapped it.

“And this is a disincentive?”

His deep chuckle puffed against her belly as he leaned in and drew a long line down the left side of her rib cage. God, she loved the sound of his laugh. “Don’t move, now.”

Which of course made her want to lean up to see what he was doing. She laced her fingers together to fight the urge to play with his hair or stroke his shoulders. “I wanna see.”

“No, you just feel. For now. Trust me.” More lines.

“I do.” As the pen traced over her skin, a line here, a curve there, a bit of shading all in one place that was really hard to sit still through, she watched him work. Nick’s intense eyes and angular face and big hands were all incredibly masculine. It made his artistic eye and the softness of the pen against her skin so much more intriguing.

And it was so freaking arousing.

The whole time he drew, her nipples were peaked and straining. Dampness grew between her legs. How she could think of sex again after just having two amazing orgasms, Becca didn’t know, but she was tempted to drop the pens between her legs just to see what he’d do.

He scooted down the bed and drew on the side of her belly, over her hip, and onto her upper thigh. Trading out pen colors, he added to the drawing in yellow and blue and red. As his hands and eyes and ink moved over her, she became more and more certain she wanted Nick Rixey to tattoo her for real, to put his mark on her exterior the way he’d done inside. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday.

It was one of the most sensual and erotic moments of her life.

“There,” he said. “All done.” He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip.

Heart kicking up in her chest, she asked, “Do I get to see it now?”

Nick stood and pulled her off the bed, his cock fully erect. “Full-length mirror behind the bathroom door.” He chucked the pens into his nightstand drawer and followed her.

Her arousal spiked and was so much more noticeable as she walked. She was trembling with lust and anticipation. In the bathroom, she flicked on the light and stepped inside the small undecorated space, then let Nick in behind her before she closed the door.

She approached the mirror, Nick shadowing her. A guitar. He’d drawn an almost impressionist guitar down her whole right side, with the head and tuning pins just beneath her breast, the fretboard a long line over her ribs, and half the rounded body curving over her belly and hip. Extending from the joint of the neck and body was a single golden wing.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s beautiful, Nick. Can I touch it?” She met his scorching eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah? Yes, you can. It won’t smear.”

Becca traced her fingers over the lines. What an incredibly thoughtful thing he’d done for her. She’d wondered about getting a tattoo, and he’d given her a way to actually see it on her skin. Not that she’d start with one this big, but still. He knew what the image meant to her . . .

Jesus, she loved this man.

She leaned back against him and held his hand to her belly when he hugged her in. “Thank you.”

“You’re beautiful no matter what, but that is so damn sexy.” He tilted his hips into her ass, his hard cock nudging her cleft. “I want to fuck you and watch how the ink moves on your skin.” She moved to turn toward him, but he grasped her shoulders and held her in place. “Right here. Just like this.”

She nodded, her heart pounding so hard she felt it beat under her skin everywhere. Paper crinkled behind her, and he tossed a condom wrapper on the counter by the sink. He nudged her ankles apart and stepped in close. In the mirror, she watched as he clutched her hip, bent his knees, and entered her from behind.

“Oh, God,” she cried, feeling him fill her. A strong arm wrapped around her chest and he grabbed her breast. She clung to his forearm, holding him to her. And then he was moving, hard and fast, her back arched, his grip providing leverage, their gazes colliding in the mirror.

“Beautiful Becca,” he rasped in her ear. The hand on her hip reached between her legs, forcing him to hunch around her as he thrust. His fingers pressed small, tight circles over her clit until she was panting.

In the mirror, his gaze alternated between her face and her body, and she understood why. Their reflection was so freaking hot. His muscles surrounding and guiding her, the tattoo on his bicep and the ink on her abdomen catching the light as they moved together.

The orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere. “Oh, God, I’m gonna come again,” she said, and then her body detonated. Her nails dug into his arm and her knees went soft.

He held her tight. “Fuck yes, me too,” he groaned, hips slapping into her. Three final, hard thrusts had his cock pulsing.

Their panting breaths echoed around the small space. She turned in his arms and threw herself around him tight. Her wetness on the condom pressed against her belly, but she didn’t care. Emotion was on the verge of overflowing, and she had to let some of it out.

Nick petted her hair and hugged her back, and for a long moment they stood there, just holding one another.

A few minutes later, she yawned and tried to hide it, but he chuckled. “I wear you out?”

“Don’t sound so smug,” she said, grinning because it was true. She pressed a kiss to his chest and looked up at him. “Besides, I’m not complaining.”

Nick disposed of the condom and kissed her. “Good.” Taking her hand, he led her back to bed. The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:04. “You should go to bed for a few hours. Morning will be here too soon at this point.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be back in a bit. Thought I’d go see what Marz’s heard from the guys or if they’re back.”

She nodded, wanting to stay with him. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

“No, you sleep. If something important has happened, I’ll come back and get you.” He kissed her on the lips. “Promise.”

As tired as she was, Nick must’ve been, too. “But if there’s no news, come back to bed with me. Okay?”

His smile brought out the dimple. “Count on it.”

While he redressed, she spent a few minutes getting ready for bed, then she let him tuck her in. Sitting on the edge, he leaned in and kissed her. “Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

“After that, no doubt.” Question was, would her dreams of them being together after this crisis passed come true? His silence after she’d admitted she cared for him rang loud in her memory. His eyes and his touch said he shared the feeling, but maybe she was misreading them.

With a laugh, he turned off the lamp and left.

B
ECCA CAME AWAKE
on a gasp. “Nick?” she said. In the darkness, the clock glowed the numbers 5:18. The lamp confirmed what her instincts had already told her; she was still alone.

The guys must be back by now. Right?
Then again, Nick promised he’d wake her if something important happened.

Taking another moment to wake up, she rubbed her face and stretched. Here and there, her muscles twinged with delicious, little aches from their lovemaking, and she didn’t mind one bit.

Indulging in a quick shower, Becca’s mind started racing. What had the guys learned? What new challenges would the day throw at them? Would they find Charlie today? God, how she hoped.

She dried quickly, careful of her guitar drawing even though he’d said it wouldn’t smear, and dressed in jeans and a baseball-style T-shirt that was one of the most comfortable things she owned. Hair still damp, she threw it into a ponytail and stepped into her sneakers.

The rest of the loft apartment was quiet, and she wondered whether that was because everyone was asleep or over in the gym. The living room was empty, so she slipped out into the stairwell and crossed to the opposite door.

Voices sounded from inside as she entered the code into the keypad and pulled open the door. She only took half a step inside, unsure what she was walking into. The door rested against her shoulder.

“Jesus, Nick. All of this is her father’s fault. So she can damn well participate,” Shane yelled. The words shoved away the last of her sleepiness. What the hell was going on?

“That’s bullshit,” Nick raged back. “She has nothing to do with what her father did. It’s not her fucking fault the man was a goddamned criminal.”

Criminal?
The walls of the huge space sucked in on her, her brain repeating that word in Nick’s angry voice. Why would he say that? Her heart pounded against her sternum.

“Guys,” Marz said, standing up from his desk chair.

Shane didn’t back down one bit. “Stop leading with your dick and think strategically—”

“Guys,” Marz said louder, looking right at her. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and she had to force her feet to remain planted and not run away from whatever was happening here.

“What?” they both yelled.

Marz nodded to where she stood frozen in the doorway on the far side of the gym. And then five pairs of male eyes swung toward her.

Chapter 20

“S
hit,” Rixey bit out, crossing the gym in what felt like one giant leap. “Becca.” Not like this. She wasn’t supposed to find out like this.
Goddamnit
.

She stepped all the way inside, letting the door click behind her. “Why did you say that? About my dad being a criminal?” Disbelief and hurt colored her expression. Pleading filled her eyes, and it shredded him. “Why would you say that?”

Heart in his throat, he reached for her. “Becca—”

“No.” She batted his hands away. “What was my father’s fault?”

Panic stalked around the edges of his mind, but Rixey refused to let that fucker have a way in. He gestured toward the guys, resignation a weight on his shoulders. “Okay. Come sit down.”

Her eyebrows slashed down over stormy blue eyes as red climbed up her cheeks. “Just tell me what you meant.”

His mind raced a moment too long with a response, apparently, because she pushed past him and marched to the corner where his team stood, their gazes alternating between the pair of them. Nick hustled after her. When the truth came, it
had
to come from him or she’d never forgive him. Maybe she already wouldn’t.

Christ, they’d made love—and that’s exactly what it had been, not sex, not fucking, not some fling—they’d made
love
and he hadn’t been honest.

She faced off with the team. “Somebody man up and tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Becca—”

Nick glared at Marz, and the man ate whatever words he’d been about to say. When the call had come in on the reward phone line that had led to this fight with Shane, they’d already agreed to Nick’s appeal to trust Becca with the truth once they recovered her brother. Finding Charlie didn’t necessarily mean the Merritts’ troubles were over. Not if their enemies were still looking for whatever had led them to toss both their apartments. Moreover, Charlie would hopefully be able to corroborate some part of their story anyway. And if he was the one talking about whatever his father had been into, the NDA became moot as a reason for continuing to withhold the information.

Gauging the temperature of his team, it was clear from their gazes and their nods they thought she should know. And that was enough for him. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, especially the more he’d gotten to know her, but that ship had sailed. And fuck the goddamned NDA. If he was going down, it wouldn’t be with this secret standing between them.

Shoulders braced and feet apart, Nick heaved a breath. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Arms crossed, she slowly turned toward him. Her gaze told him to get to it.

Unsure which knife to throw first, the words tangled on his tongue. “Shit, Becca, I’m sorry. Your father . . .” He shook his head. “For five years I served under him. Frank Merritt was my mentor. The kind of soldier I wanted to be. He loved being out in the field, leading men and making a difference. He could’ve gotten cushy on a base somewhere, but he stayed with his team. And I respected the hell out of him for that.”

Damn, it wasn’t easy admitting how much Merritt had once meant to him. He kept his eyes on her, not wanting to see the guys’ inevitable reaction to his next words. “Frank was dirty. He had some black op running on the side—”

She blanched. “What? No. My dad would never—”

“Let me finish.” Rixey raked at his hair. The scowl looked so out of place on her face, and
God
, he hated that he’d put it there. “For months, I’d noticed little things. How he started to go off on his own for meetings. Afghan farmers—new to all of us—who seemed to know him. Supposed last-minute changes in orders while on counternarcotics missions, including the day our convoy was ambushed.”

The men knew all of this. And, damnedest thing was, after the fact, they’d all opened up. He hadn’t been the only one to pick up on some of Merritt’s oddities in behavior. But they’d all admired him so much that not one of them had believed what had been right before their eyes. Until it was too late, and half their team was gone. All this time that he’d beaten himself up over seeing but not believing what had been going on with Merritt, he’d forgotten that the others had experienced the same thing. His brain had piled all the blame on himself, when it wasn’t any of their faults. Somehow, he hadn’t had these insights until now.

“Go on.” Anger, sadness, and suspicion clouded her expression and made him want to go to her. But everything about her posture screamed
Hands off,
and it parked a Humvee-sized ball of regret right in the middle of his chest.

He shook his head, his gaze skating over the empty gym equipment, and he heaved a breath. “We were transporting a huge quantity of seized opium. In our area of operation, there were two drop locations, but we almost always used the same one. Right before the convoy got underway, Merritt said we had to drop at the alternate location. About halfway there, out in the middle of BFE, we hit a two-truck roadblock that shouldn’t have been there. I was in the tail gun truck and hung back. It didn’t feel right. And your father was too reassuring on the radio, like he knew it would be okay. When,
damnit,
that shit is never okay over there.” He scanned his gaze over the group.

Silent support radiated from all the men, shoring him up to finish the tale.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, the scruff there now pronounced. “SOP when a convoy stops is fives and twenty-fives. Gunners do five-meter scans in all directions. Soldiers dismount to secure the territory twenty-five meters out from the convoy. Your father told us to stand down. Fucking ridiculous, because a stopped convoy is a sitting duck for a grenade launcher. But your father got out of the truck and approached them like he didn’t have a care in the world.”

As he spoke, the blood slowly drained out of Becca’s face. But now that the words were spilling, he couldn’t stop them. You could’ve heard a pin drop as he drew a breath to forge on.

“The ringleader of the roadblock—an Afghan police commander we’d never before seen—shook your father’s hand, then said, ‘I have a message for you: death finds all traitors.’ The man shot him point-blank. After that, the shit hit the fan.” Rixey easily recalled the barrage of reports through his headset, the gunfire, and the pounding explosion of the point vehicle. “The front trucks were trapped when a grenade disabled the third truck. The team bailed from the vehicles, taking cover and returning fire. Insurgents went after the transport vehicles without checking their cargos, like they knew exactly which ones to take. Easy put two rounds in the police commander’s gut. I think that’s the only thing that kept them from staying until they picked every last one of us off.”

Becca took two steps backward and sagged into a folding chair.

“After they left with the opium, six of us were still alive, though four were shot to shit. Shane did his best to keep us from bleeding out while Easy got one of the gun trucks up and running. By then, Zane was gone. We radioed for backup, but we were on the road again before anyone showed up.”

“The casualty notification officers said he’d died in a routine checkpoint incident,” she said in a shaky voice.

“That’s the official word,” Shane said, voice tight, expression dark.

“But what you’re saying is . . .” Becca swallowed, hard, the sound audible across the distance that separated them. “That he led you to that roadblock with . . . what? The secret intention of turning over those trucks of opium to terrorists?”

She put the pieces right together, didn’t she? Nick just nodded.

“But . . . why? Why would he do that?”

“There’s a fuckton of corruption in Afghanistan,” Marz said, elbows on the desk and hands fisted together. “Opium’s a persuasive mistress. The local police are on the take. Upwards of forty percent of them in some regions test positive for the drug. Hell, among our own forces, positive drug tests for opium have increased more than tenfold since we’ve been over there.”

She spun toward Marz. “The Army was my father’s life. You think he would sell you out to make money off the drug that killed his oldest son?”

No one responded. The deafening silence was an answer in itself.

Nick cleared his throat, memories forming a thick knot. “When we got back to base and were stabilized, they immediately started in on interrogations. It became evident pretty damn quick they were investigating
us
rather than the incident. Our suspicions about your father were roundly shut down to the point where we were threatened with prosecution if we continued to voice them.”

“They ruined our records, Becca,” Murda said, leaning against the wall, his expression lethal, his tone like ice. “Every man in this room had exemplary service records. Look at them now and you’ll find a long list of disciplinary problems and hints of dereliction of duty, supposedly reported by your father. Makes it look like we’re trying to discredit his leadership to clear our own names. Someone was in on this with your father, protected him while he left us swinging.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, where her fingers knotted and unknotted.

“They forced us out on other than honorable charges,” Shane said with barely concealed rage. He stabbed a finger into the table. “Made us sign nondisclosure agreements in order to stay out of prison. It’s a permanent mark on our records that will never go away.”

Nick had to hammer home the point. It was his only shot at getting her to forgive him. “Those NDAs are the main reason I didn’t—couldn’t—tell you the truth. But I also didn’t want to hurt you. And, shit, how could this not hurt?”

Becca kneaded the muscles in her neck and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.” A single tear trailed down her cheek. Her glassy blue eyes cut to Nick. “Who was the message from?”

“What message?” Nick asked.

“You said the police commander gave him a message. From who?”

Wouldn’t he like to know. It was one of the pieces of the puzzle that screamed corruption. “We don’t know. But apparently Charlie stumbled on something that might help us answer questions just like that one.”

Becca rose to her feet and closed the distance between them, her movements stiff, her sad blue eyes spearing him. “You promised to be honest with me. To treat me as a partner in this.”

He shook his head. “I promised to tell you everything about our investigation to find Charlie. And I have.”

“Bullshit, Nick.” Anger burned away the sadness from her eyes. “You’re splicing hairs too thin to be cut. Correct me if I’m too blond to follow, but this
story,
if it’s true, is fundamental to finding my brother.
If
my father was working with some bad guys and Charlie found that out, then those bad guys are who probably took him, broke into our houses, and tried to kidnap me, right? Same investigation.”

“I wanted to tell you, but the NDA affected more than just me. Breaching it risks all of our freedom, not just mine.” His brain latched onto another part of what she’d said:
Story
? Becca thought he was telling a
story
. His chest cavity filled with crushed glass. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?” He held his arms out. “You don’t believe
us
.”

“Yes, I do. I mean, I think . . .
shit,
Nick. This just redrew the map of my world. I don’t know what the hell to think right now. Okay?” Her voice cracked. “It feels like losing him all over again.” Silent tears fell, and her expression filled with utter disappointment. “You asked me to trust you,” she whispered. “And I did.” Becca shook her head. “God, Nick, we just—” She gestured toward the door.

We just made love. Damnit, Becca, I know.
The truth of the words sliced into him on a cellular level. He understood her anger. It was hard to accept any reason for being lied to by someone you love.

If she even loved him. Or ever could, now.

“So, what is it that Shane wants me to participate in?” she said in a monotone voice. She turned toward his teammate.

Sonofabitch
. She was shutting down, and he was losing her. He felt it down to his bones. And as much as he wanted to drag her back to his bed, beg her forgiveness, and do any penance she required to make it up to her, he couldn’t. Because they had a time-sensitive lead hanging over their heads.

And a fight to finish about how to pursue it.

Shane looked over her head to Nick.

“Don’t look at him. Look at
me
. Tell
me
.” She planted her hands on her hips.

Shane’s eyes narrowed, but he started talking. “Man who says he attempted to abduct you called through the reward line and asked for a meeting with you this morning. He knew about the pinkie, so he seems legit. We’re supposed to call him back at oh seven hundred to set it up.”

Life filtered back into her voice. “This is good news, right? If he knows about the pinkie, he probably knows where Charlie is.”

“Maybe,” Nick said, stepping beside her. “But it could just as well be a setup to grab you.”

“Still, it’s worth learning more, isn’t it?” She scanned her gaze over the group. “Unless the scouting you did last night turned up something useful?”