Hard as It Gets (29 page)

“We reconned four locations,” Beckett said, pushing off the wall and giving her an appraising look. “Two were completely negative, two beg further investigation. We’ve also got bugs in place at the strip club, one on the bar and one on the stage. We couldn’t access any private spaces, though, so we’ll see what they yield.”

“See,” Marz began, pulling up a series of images on his computer. Grainy schematics appeared with small groups of blinking red dots. “In both locations, Beck’s scanner identified stationary humans in basement rooms. In the first location, three. In the second location, two. This was at the shipping facility and a strip club.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, leaning in.

“Possible prisoners.” Beck braced his hands on the desk and studied the pictures. “Or not. It’s hard to say for sure without more intel.”

“Which our caller might be able to provide, depending on what the hell he really wants.” Shane’s voice didn’t hold its earlier eagerness for the idea, which helped keep Nick’s blood pressure from exploding off the top of his head. “But it means putting you out there. There’s no way he’s going to allow you to bring along a guard detachment. He’s going to put demands and parameters on the meet, Becca. One will certainly be that you come alone.”

“Oh.” She visibly deflated, shoulders sagging, gaze dropping to the desktop.

Oh
? No, more like,
Holy fucking shit
. Guy who tried to kidnap her wanted to meet alone. No. Just no. “It’s too dangerous,” Nick said.

“You guys would find a way to keep me safe,” she said, with an implicit trust that tore at him. “So, if I’m game to do it, that’s the end of the conversation.”

“Becca—”

“Stop. Just stop. You don’t get to dictate what I do or don’t do.” She arched an eyebrow at Nick, and he got the message loud and clear. He’d lost any right he might’ve had to an opinion about her life. Rixey fought the urge to rub at the ache splintering the left side of his chest. “Charlie is my brother. If doing this will help bring him home alive, then that’s all I need to know.” She looked at Shane for guidance, and that absolutely slayed Nick. “What do you think?”

“I think Nick’s right about the risk,” he said, throwing Rixey a bone. “But recon didn’t tell us as much as we’d hoped, and this meeting could make the difference, depending on why he’s asking for it.”

Easy settled a hip against the edge of the desk. “Maybe he wants to make a trade? Or sell some information?”

“It’s like a damn multiple-choice quiz right now. I’ll pick D: all of the above.” Shaking his head, Marz leaned back in his chair.

“One way to find out, right? We call.” She surveyed the men, and Nick followed her lead. Maybe she didn’t know them well enough to see it, but to a man they wore a new respect for her in their gazes. As much as he hated the idea of hanging her out there as some kind of bait, he admired her courage and willingness to help. To be part of the team. Everyone nodded, including him. He could totally get behind making the call. “Okay, then. What time is it?” she asked.

“Six forty-two,” Marz said.

She nodded and released a long breath. “So, we call at seven o’clock like he asked and go from there.”

W
ELL,
B
ECCA GOT
what she wanted. Which was why she found herself standing alone in an open-air picnic pavilion on the edge of the Canton Waterfront Park three hours later.

A yuppie neighborhood with a party reputation, all of Canton was probably still hungover and in bed, which meant she was the only one in the park. Good for their daytime op, a little scary as she stood here now.

She wasn’t really alone, though. The team was stationed all around her. Miguel and Shane were hiding in plain sight. They were readying Miguel’s powerboat down at the dock, like they were heading out to fish on the beautiful spring Sunday morning. Miguel had actually been the one to suggest this location, reasoning he could drop them off by water, which the gang wouldn’t likely expect in case they were lying in wait. And, if the team could grab the guy, taking the boat out on the water would give them privacy to interrogate him. Nick, Beckett, Easy, and Marz had taken up hiding spots around the park. Even though she couldn’t see them, she trusted that they were there for her.

That knowledge didn’t keep her heart from pounding in her chest or her scalp from prickling, but it gave her the courage to stand and wait to meet the man who’d held a knife to her ribs and attempted to kidnap her.

The man who said he could tell her where Charlie was and what she had to do to get him back.

That had been enough for Becca. For the rest of the team, as well. Even Nick had begrudgingly admitted it was a critical lead, even if he hated the idea of her being out in the open by herself.

Nick. God, the story he’d told about her father. If she let herself think about it at all, nausea flooded her gut. Becca paced the length of the pavilion, twigs crunching beneath her sneakers. Part of her wanted to reject the idea that her father was anything but the hero she’d always believed. What they said he did made absolutely no sense. None of it squared with the man she’d known and loved her whole life.

Except . . . now that the logic of the team’s story had time to gel with what Charlie claimed and the reality of their situation, she was ashamed that she’d succumbed to a moment of knee-jerk defensiveness and made Nick question whether she believed in him. She’d just been so blindsided.

If only Nick had told her the truth sooner.

Damned NDA. The agreement made the team’s freedom contingent on keeping quiet. On an intellectual level, she totally got why Nick hadn’t said anything. But it didn’t keep her heart from feeling a bit bruised. Here she was talking about her father like he and Nick were old friends, never having the first clue that he hated her dad with a passion. Believed to his core that Frank Merritt had ruined his life. Certainly explained the frigid shoulder that first day, didn’t it? And it explained why the team had been standoffish toward her while they’d been more friendly toward Jeremy and Jess. But all along, she’d been clueless.

Becca turned to stare out at the bright sparkle of the Inner Harbor. Two wide-winged gulls swooped low over the water. A part of her heart wanted Nick to have trusted her despite the NDA. They’d made love, for God’s sake. That didn’t earn her a bit of extra trust and respect? Then again, she’d been the only one to ever actually voice feelings in this whole thing. Maybe she was putting the cart about forty-two cart-lengths before the horse, and Nick’s feelings weren’t anywhere near as pronounced as her own. That would certainly explain why he wouldn’t have wanted to take a chance on telling her.

Given all that was at stake, for him and the four other men who shared his secret, she really shouldn’t blame him.

So, fine. Whatever. Becca would just have to pull up her big girl panties and find a way to deal. Nothing could bring her father back. Her hurt feelings didn’t matter—only finding and rescuing Charlie did. The rest of it would get worked out later. Or it wouldn’t.

Pressing the button on her smartphone revealed the time to be 9:54 a.m. Guy should be here any minute. Fingering the charms on her bracelet and shifting from foot to foot, she did a three-sixty scan of as much of the park as she could see from the pavilion, which was located at one end of the open expanse of green with decorative pathways and surrounding trees. All the time she’d lived in Baltimore, she’d never once been to this little gem right on the water. Something told her that after today, she’d never want to come back, either.

Are you out there, Nick?

Forcing herself to take a calming breath, she pressed her palm against the Glock 19 handgun Nick had insisted she carry—not that she minded. Small and lightweight, she had it concealed in a small holster tucked inside her jeans on her right hip. She dropped her hands to her sides. Checking that the Glock was there was a dead giveaway that she was carrying. She straightened her shirt to make sure the gun wasn’t printing through the material.

Tires screeched against pavement. Becca whirled toward the parking lot bordering the park on the other side of a narrow driveway and a line of trees. Through the new spring leaves, she could just make out a dark SUV cutting diagonally across the mostly open spaces. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. It was critical she not do anything to give the impression she wasn’t alone.

God, how am I going to do this? Just breathe, Bec. This is too important to screw up.

Right. As long as her lungs kept operating, she’d be fine.

The truck whipped into the driveway about twenty feet in front of her, the drive that also led to the boat put-in and dock where Miguel and Shane were pretending to be Sunday fishermen. Score one for the good guys—getting her attacker in this space was one of the things they’d hoped for. It was why they’d chosen the pavilion as their rendezvous point.

She recognized the driver right away. In her mind’s eye, she saw him crossing the staff break room. It was definitely the same man. And, thank God, he’d come alone.

Eyes drilling into her, he got out of the idling truck and crossed the grass looking like the gangster he apparently was—baggy jeans, hoody, chains at his neck. But, geez, he’d been beaten to hell judging by the bruises and cuts on his face. Every moment of this situation was more surreal than the next.

“That’s close enough,” she said when he reached the edge of the sidewalk that ringed the pavilion. Becca retreated behind a picnic table, placing a barrier between them.

He glared but stopped on the sidewalk. “So we meet again.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say we’ve met, since you know who I am, but I don’t know you.” Her gaze dropped to his hand, but she couldn’t get a good look at the tattoos there from this angle.

His brown eyes narrowed. “All you need to know is I’m the one who can help get your brother back.”

It sounded too good to be true. The breeze blew strands of hair loose from her ponytail, and she swept them away from her eyes. “What is it you want?”

“To know how your bro put two and two together.”

Becca nearly groaned and her hands fisted. She had no more patience for bullshit mystery. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Don’t play games with me.”

“Charlie found something that was supposed to be hidden, and we need to know what led him to it.”

“How am I supposed to find that out?” she asked, a chill running down her spine despite the nice morning.

The hint of a smile played around the corners of his wide mouth. “I was thinking about that . . .”

A scuff. Rubber on concrete. Goose bumps erupted across her neck as she turned.

Time slowed to a crawl, and everything happened at once.

Two guys stepped out of the trees and entered the far side of the pavilion. Both had guns.

Panic had barely welled up inside her as one screamed and fell to the ground for no apparent reason. The other bolted but, just as suddenly, crashed to the ground with a shout and a cry. Could Beckett’s silencer be the cause? The punks writhed on the grass, but one of them returned fire, the gun’s report echoing loudly under the pavilion’s roof. Becca instinctively crouched down, hands cradling her head. Her gaze whipped to her attacker.

Expression absolutely livid, he stalked around the table with a gun pointed at her head. “Not getting away this time, bitch.”

She backtracked the opposite direction, her hand reaching for her gun.

His roiling gaze tracked the movement and he lunged.

Becca took off across the concrete, catching her shin on the blunt edge of a bench in a flash of pain. The stumble slowed her, and he grabbed her ponytail. Her head wrenched back, nearly taking her off her feet. Suddenly, her air was gone, his arm trapping her in a tight chokehold that had her clawing and gasping. Nearby, footsteps pounded on the earth. The team.

They’ll get to me, they’ll get to me, they’ll get to me in time
.

Above her, the bright blue sky filled with little pinpoints of light as the guy’s arm compressed her windpipe. And her medical training meant she knew she had mere seconds before blacking out.

Voices. A scuffle. A shove from behind. Then she was free and on the grass. Gulping down air, she rolled onto her hands and knees, blinking and shaking consciousness into her head.

Two bodies slammed to the ground ten feet away from her. Nick had come out of nowhere and taken the guy facedown. Now he was jamming the business end of his gun into the man’s meaty cheek, drilling his knee into his back.

Through the mask he wore, icy-hot green eyes cut toward her.

“I’m okay,” she gasped, remembering not to use Nick’s name, one of the instructions they’d given her by way of preparation. When he didn’t look away, she nodded. “I’m okay.” Last thing she wanted was for him to be distracted by worry.

Beckett knelt behind the gangbanger and shoved a black hood over his head. The guys removed their masks, meant to protect their identity from the Churchmen. She was the only one who didn’t need one, given they’d already seen her.

“Come on,” Marz said, appearing beside her. He helped her to her feet and steadied her when she wobbled. “We have to move. Fast.”

“Look,” she said, pointing. The tattoo on the back of the baddie’s hand was definitely the cross and tower symbol.

“Other two are secure where they dropped,” Easy said, jogging up behind them with a handful of weaponry. He pulled off his mask and stuffed it in his pocket. “I called nine-one-one, although I should just let ’em bleed out.” He reached into the driver’s side door of the SUV, killed the engine, and came back out with the keys jingling in his hands.

Nick produced a thick plastic zip tie. He secured the attacker’s hands behind his back, grabbed his bicep, and forced him to his feet. “Please give me a reason to pull the trigger,” Nick growled, digging the barrel of his gun into the man’s back. Hand on his arm, Nick pushed him forward.

Guns drawn, they moved as a unit, gazes constantly scanning. Even with Becca and their prisoner in the center of the group, Nick’s men very clearly moved in a synchronized formation as they walked down the drive to the boat they’d all arrived on, though now moored further down the waterfront. Even as he kept a handle on her attacker, Nick planted his body next to hers. Relief, admiration, regret for their morning fight. Love. The urge to tell him all of it flooded through her, but it would have to wait.