A Simple Twist of Fate (11 page)

The wind changed directions and blew into the back of her hair. It carried a soft mist. Out of nowhere, the rain had kicked up. The weather should be warm and dry, but rain was as usual as air here.

She thought the dark skies fit the conversation. When a light flicked on in the downstairs television room, she knew it was time to take this somewhere else. She reached for the door handle but Tom blocked the way.

“We should go,” she said.

“Before we do there’s one thing you need to get, and I mean this, so listen.”

“Only one?” If true, that would be a good day.

“Do you really think Beck wanted to walk away from you when you made a pass?”

“Are we still on this?” She gave another quick look in the direction of the house. Last thing she needed was a parade of Hanovers coming down the steps to see what was going on in the driveway.

“You have that guy all messed up and misfiring. He spins much more and we’ll be rushing him to the hospital for emergency head-out-of-ass surgery.”

She shushed Tom even as she wanted to rely on his superior male-related knowledge. “Maybe you could not scream that.”

Tom shook his head. “Wow.”

“What?”

He pointed at her face. “It’s kind of wrong that the idea of Beck being screwed up over you makes you smile like that.”

She touched a hand to her cheek and felt the heat there. She tried to swallow the smile, but it would not die. Beck, all talky, prone to argue about anything. The thought of him standing there babbling over her . . . well, it didn’t make her sad. Did confuse the crap out of her, though.

“I know.”

“There is an answer to all of this.” Tom glanced around as he said it. “And it’s a pretty easy one.”

Wrong
. “It’s not as simple as you guys think.”

“Guys?”

“You and Beck.”

Tom finally stood up to full height. He crowded in and dropped his voice. “Honey, if he’s pushing you for information, if you’ve gotten to that point where he wants to really know you, don’t blow it over some misplaced loyalty to Angela. Tell him now.”

A strange sensation tugged at her as Tom said the words. She looked up to the second floor again and saw an outline in the library window. She didn’t have to guess. Beck stood there with his hands on his hips and his attention focused on them in the driveway.

“I could be too late.” Even as she said the words she hoped they weren’t true.

Tom followed her gaze and waved. “From the whipped-dog look on Beck’s face every time I see him, I don’t think that’s an issue.”

Chapter Eleven

Beck stood in the television room the next morning staring at the unopened envelope on the coffee table. He’d studied that thing for weeks but never in this room. The fact it was here, now, meant Callen was moving it around, possibly getting closer to unveiling whatever the hell was in it.

Beck just wanted the damn thing opened. He didn’t like mysteries. He wanted facts and clarity. He’d been bugging Leah on and off for weeks about the contents. She knew. She put the information in there and handed it to Cal with the warning to ignore it. She kept the secret.

Damn, he hated secrets more than mysteries. Secrets carried with them a knowing intent by the holder to keep others in the dark. Callen, Leah . . . Sophie. Secrets choked the life out of everything. That the otherwise intelligent people in his household failed to see that kept a slow fury boiling inside of Beck all the time.

“Hey.” Declan stepped into the doorway in his daily uniform of jeans, tee and heavy work boots. “I need help with the wood splitter. Where’s Cal?”

After giving his brother a quick glance, Beck’s attention went back to the envelope and the heaviness in his gut. “He’s out.”

“Believe it or not that answer isn’t helpful.”

It had gotten to the point where Beck couldn’t concentrate on anything except the wealth of information he didn’t know. The secrets stacked on top of him and the situation with Sophie magnified every frustrating detail. Her denials and half-answers were just one piece of the incomprehensible whole his world had become.

But his adult life didn’t start in that direction. He knew the law and had walked into courtrooms prepared. His new position called for him to travel around, ensuring legal aid offices were in compliance with their charters. Clear and straightforward. A life centered on knowing the rules and how far he could push them.

Life in Sweetwater turned out to be the exact opposite. In many ways he was thrown back into the world he knew as a kid. The time before he found focus and refused to let it waver.

The hang-up phone calls to the house. The whispers from some of the people in town whenever Beck walked into a business. The money missing from Charlie’s accounts. It all amounted to layer upon layer of deception. Beck doubted half of the secrets even mattered. People gave intriguing details more power by holding them inside.

“What are you doing in here?” The amusement had left Declan’s voice. His voice stayed low and almost flat.

“I don’t get it.” Beck swiped the envelope off the table and waved it in Declan’s general direction. “Why doesn’t Callen just open the damn thing?”

Turning around, Declan closed the pocket doors, shutting them both inside. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

“When?”

“After everything settles down.”

Beck started to ask what that meant but before he got the words out the answer rammed into him like a kick to the stomach. He could see the truth in the pickup of Declan’s breathing and his sudden stillness. For all those years of weapons and battle training, all that time dedicated to protecting country, Declan wanted peace. In his life, with his brothers, in a future with Leah. It pulsed off him as he stood there. Beck’s strong brother had a fear.

Beck gave it a voice. “Cal is not going to leave.”

Declan’s expression went blank. “I didn’t say he was.”

He didn’t have to. Beck got it. “We’re not going to say that one thing that makes him run again.”

“I didn’t—” Declan wiped a hand over his forehead. “But how do we know that?”

“We just do.” Beck did.

Callen stayed when a few vocal neighbors expressed their hate for Charlie with threats to the house. He stayed when the FBI followed him to town. He stayed when a mystery woman showed up begging to see him.

And he handed over the check that would save the house for all of them.

“Those days are behind us.” Beck said because he wanted it to be true and believed it was. “But this envelope is just hanging. We need it handled.”

“Hell, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m guessing it’s a self-control issue at this point. Callen wants to prove the past doesn’t matter.”

But they knew the truth. That was the one horrific gift Charlie gave them—a past that haunted and destroyed everything. “Don’t you want to know what’s in it? I mean, it could impact all of us, or our ownership or the house, or one of the billion pending lawsuits.”

“Cal will let us know if that’s true.”

When Declan made a move to grab the envelope, Beck dropped it out of reach. “Or you could.”

Declan swore under his breath. “This conversation is starting to suck wind.”

“You could find out in two seconds and we wouldn’t have to open the envelope or betray any confidence.” Beck turned it over and ran his finger along the taped seam. “We could be ready for whatever shitstorm the envelope brings if we knew what’s inside it.”

Declan sat down on the couch’s armrest. “Maybe I don’t care.”

The statement hung there. Beck turned it over in his mind, trying to figure out how anyone would want to be left in the dark, especially after their upbringing. He struggled for the right words but went for the most obvious. “I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.” Declan balanced his hands on his thighs. “I have what I need.”

There was no way going through life, waiting to see what came along rather than knowing, made sense. Thoughts bounced around Beck’s mind as he tried to imagine his regimented military brother living that way. Clearly being in love had fried his brain.

“What if what’s in that envelope threatens your relationship with Leah.”

Declan shook his head. “Nothing could.”

The definitive comments kept piling up. Beck didn’t know how to analyze them or what to believe. Declan’s responses defied rational thinking and . . . “Wait, do you already know? Is that where this disinterest is coming from? Did Leah tell you what she put in there? Do you know because you’ve gone through all those files she collected on us for all those years?”

Those were the only scenarios that made sense. Those Beck could comprehend and deal with. He wanted in the loop, but at least that loop led to an answer.

“Let’s clear this up right now with a bit of repetition.” Declan stood up and in a smooth arc, snatched the envelope out of Beck’s hand and held it up. “I don’t know what’s in this damn thing.”

Man, he hadn’t gone through with his fantasies of taking Sophie up against the library wall, because he wanted the truth from her first. Beck wanted the secrets out in the open. And here Declan was building a whole life with Leah while a piece of information hung out there.

Beck didn’t get it at all. “But . . . how is that possible?”

“Because I haven’t looked in it. As long as it’s not about Callen’s health or something he needs to stay safe, and Leah has assured me that’s not it,
then I do not want to invite trouble
.”

“But she gave Cal the envelope.”

“I know, Beck. I was there when it happened. I also heard Cal say he didn’t want to open it right now.”

That was a month ago, and to Beck the unnecessary delay meant Callen was stuck wallowing in denial. “Ask Leah about it.”

“I have much better things to do when I’m alone with Leah.” Declan used the edge of the envelope to point at Beck. “And you’re not allowed to bug her about it either.”

Beck’s defense soared. Arguments raced up his throat and he hovered on the edge of launching into his version of a brotherly cross-examination. “
Allowed
?”

This time Declan shook the envelope. After years of fighting off a raging temper, Declan had learned to control it. Now he stood there with flatlined mouth and tension zapping off of him and stared Beck down. “Look, the contents are Cal’s business.”

“You’re assuming.” That’s the piece about his brothers that ticked Beck off. They went round and round on this about Charlie and the threatening letters and even the town’s police chief and his best friend, Leah’s irrational father, who wanted all Hanovers arrested for having Charlie’s genes. Callen and Declan heard pieces of information and took them as fact. Beck refused to do that.

Beck circled back around to the thought pounding through him. “I can’t believe you don’t want to know. That it doesn’t bother you.”

“We’re not all nosy lawyers.”

There it was. The Hanover Brother way of getting out of an honest discussion. The minute the words left Declan’s mouth, a white-hot rage washed through Beck. It was the one time too many. “My fucking career choice has nothing to do with this and you know it.”

Declan’s eyes widened as his hands went into the air in what looked like surrender. “What the hell?”

“Stop using what I do as an excuse.”

“For?”

“Who I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it.” Beck said the words, but the pounding heat continued to pump through his veins. He felt every swoosh, every burning movement.

“Hard to when you just made it clear this attorney thing is such a sensitive subject.”

Right.
He
was sensitive. “I know you and Cal don’t have any respect for my career, but—”

“Stop.” Declan’s face fell, from his eyebrows to his mouth. It was as if the life pumped right out of him.

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s not true.”

“Right.”

“Hey, I said hold up.” Declan whipped the envelope, sending it flying until it smacked against the couch cushion and slid to the floor, and grabbed Beck’s arm. It fell to his side right after. “We respect you and how hard you work and that you’ve never taken the easy way out. Traveling around, providing oversight to legal aid offices.”

It was Beck’s turn to be stunned. He had no idea either of his brothers got his job, other than it being in a field they despised. “You reading my resume again?”

“Leah explained it to me in small words.”

Beck couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, even though the rumble in his chest actually left an ache there. “Fair enough.”

“You make sure local offices are doing what they’re supposed to as part of the Legal Services Corporation, whatever that is. I’m guessing some sort of legal aid Mother Ship.”

Beck dropped down onto the coffee table. For some reason, his legs refused to hold him. “Something like that.”

“See, I listen.”

Some of the heated air escaped the room and Beck could breathe again. “Apparently.”

“Bottom line, I get that you have to balance political stuff from D.C. with the needs of the people in different state offices. What you do is important. It helps people. No one appreciates that more than I do.” Declan grew louder with each sentence until the last part came out in a yell. His voice echoed through the small room until it rolled out again into deathly silence.

The quiet proved as unnerving as the tense argument. Beck glanced at the television, seeing his blurred image reflected in the dark screen. He took in his slumped shoulders and tucked the conversation in the back of his mind where he could analyze it later.

“Let’s find another topic,” he said, suddenly willing to talk about
anything
else.

“We’re just wary when it comes to law enforcement and anyone related to the court system. You have to admit we have reason to be,” Declan said. “There’s a rogue FBI guy hanging around town right now, pretending to conduct a neutral investigation when we know he’s just after Cal.”

Looked like Declan wasn’t ready to let it go.

Beck owned his part in the blow-up. Exhausted or not, this was a conversation they needed to have. Whether this was the right time was a different question. “But Cal still hasn’t explained why.”

“It’s this Walker Reeves guy, whatever his title is.”

Beck filled in the answer from the online search he did on the guy. “FBI Special Agent, and it’s clear he and Cal have a history.”

“There are a lot of guys on the planet who have a history with me, but they aren’t following me around. Trust me: There’s more going on there, but I think it comes from Reeves.”

“Cal has a lot of secrets.” Which led Beck right back to his point that secrets ruin everything and everyone they touch.

“I’m thinking he’s entitled. We all are. Law enforcement, police chiefs from small towns and big cities, have been dropping by our entire lives in the hope of catching us taking up the family business. It gets fucking old.” Declan let out a long breath. “The lawyer jokes probably do, too.”

“Maybe if you made up some that were actually funny.”

But Declan didn’t even smile. “Do they really bother you?”

“I do have a sense of humor, you know.” Though at the moment Beck was damned if he could find it.

“You sure? Because it seems to have taken a vacation.”

There it was
. “You’re saying I’m acting like a whiny little girl?”

“Well, I didn’t want to use those words, but yes.”

“I can work for other people, step back and assess. It’s just different when it’s your family. I’m wading through all this shit, all these lawsuits.” Beck vowed not to explain or lay this part on his brothers. They had enough with the house and everything else going on. But it felt right—good even—to share the burden, if only for a second. “Everyone blames Dad for everything.”

Declan scoffed. “You could probably add my name to that list.”

“I get the loss of money and valuables, though I’ll be damned if I can find an actual trail leading back to Dad since he died with exactly forty-three hundred dollars in his possession. But the hatred of him is like this living thing. He’s been dead a year yet people feed it to keep the hate alive.”

Declan bent over and scooped up the fallen envelope. “And you don’t believe people are entitled to their hate.”

More assumption-jumping
. “I didn’t say that. I work with people on the wrong side of luck all the time. I get desperation and loss.”

“On one level.”

Now Declan sounded like Callen. “Excuse me?”

“Charlie’s victims weren’t unlucky. It was more than that.”

“I get it.”

“Do you? Because you continue to act like our father, the great Charlie Hanover, was somehow less culpable than he was.”