Just when Becca thought Nick had been gone a really long time, he and another man made their way toward the lounge. And, holy wow, if men could be pretty, this guy was. Tall and lean, his light brown hair was short on the sides and longer on top, where the blond-tipped ends stuck up this way and that like he’d run his hands through it a million times. His steel gray eyes held a natural smile in their depths, and if God had ever used a chisel on a man’s jaw, it was this guy’s.
“Everyone, this is Shane McCallan,” Nick said in a tone of voice that seemed reserved, even for him. “Shane, this is my brother, Jeremy.”
“The smarter Rixey, I presume,” Shane said with a hint of a southern accent.
They shook and Jeremy smiled. “I like you already.”
“You already met Jess.” Shane shook her hand with a wink, and Becca swore the normally kick-ass woman went weak in the knees. The Shane Effect, she thought, twisting her lips to hide her smile. “And this is Becca Merritt,” Nick said.
Those gray eyes locked onto hers for a long moment, but apparently his secret swoon power didn’t work on her. Instead, she found herself looking away to wonder at the shadows that’d settled over Nick’s expression. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” Shane finally said, offering his hand.
She returned the shake. “Thanks. And thanks for coming.”
The man cut his steely gaze at Nick and jammed his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Well, when a brother asks for something, it’s only right to step up.” The room went frosty as the two stared at each other.
The buzzer sounded out front again.
“I’ll get it,” Nick said.
He returned a few minutes later with a giant of a man who had a noticeable limp. A blue-eyed blond with a warrior’s face, serious and utterly masculine. Scars marred the skin all around his right eye, making her wonder if whatever had caused them had affected his sight. Taller than Nick or Shane, and broader, too. The guy might’ve been a linebacker from the size of his neck and shoulders under the dark sports coat.
Linebacker did the hand-clasp-one-shoulder-bump greeting with Shane like the old friends they were, and while he repeated the action with Nick, there was a hesitation there that niggled at her stomach. Nick introduced him as Beckett Murda, and, as the greetings went around again, a feeling of protectiveness for Nick crawled up Becca’s spine.
Beckett stepped forward and extended his bear mitt of a hand to her. “Miss Merritt,” he said as they shook. She gave her thanks once again and he nodded. While he didn’t go at Nick with the outward sarcasm Shane had exhibited, Becca watched for and saw the two of them throw icy sideways glances at each other.
Where was the camaraderie and brotherhood she’d expected from soldiers who’d been where they’d been and done all that they’d done? Not here, that was for damn sure. Tension pulsed off the three former teammates, but Becca kept her questions to herself. For now.
Thank God for Jeremy. The guy could ease anyone into a conversation, she was sure of it. Before long, she’d learned that Shane worked for a defense contractor in Northern Virginia and had grown up outside of Richmond. And, while Beckett proved a harder sell on conversational chitchat, he shared a little about his work doing private security. Becca mostly hung on the sidelines, preferring to listen and get the lay of the land about who these men were who’d be helping her and Charlie. Odder was that Nick stayed on the periphery, too. Even Jess participated more.
Becca wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the front buzzer went off.
“I’ll go see who it is,” Nick offered again, disappearing from the group. “Jeremy, it’s your client,” he called. Jer excused himself just as the front door set off the buzzer one more time. A few minutes later, Nick led another man down the hall—the last expected arrival for the night, according to what he’d told Becca earlier.
This guy was about Nick’s height, with skin so dark it was almost black. He had a killer smile and a bald head, and the form-fitting, long-sleeved shirt he wore didn’t make her guess at all about how cut he was underneath. But what Becca most appreciated was that he seemed more relaxed, less hostile around Nick.
“Everyone, this is Edward Cantrell,” Nick said, introducing Jeremy, Jess, and her in turn.
“Becca,” Edward said. Was she imagining it, or was his smile not quite as bright when he said hello to her?
Nick took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “Well, you all have come a long way, and it’s late. Let’s head upstairs.”
As the men made for the door, Nick avoided Becca’s gaze. At the back door to Hard Ink, he directed them up the stairs and gave them the code to the apartment. Then he came back to her.
Becca arched an eyebrow, already bracing for a fight. The you’re-not-invited vibe had been loud and clear, which was stirring up a hornet’s nest in her brain.
And he knew it, too. He gently took her by the shoulders. “Wait. Before you go off, hear me out. There’s no way you didn’t pick up on the tension. Let me hash some things out with them and catch them up on the basics. We won’t make any plans without you.”
She studied his eyes and could see only sincerity there. The urge to fight dialed back a notch. “Okay, but what’s with all the cold shoulders?”