He frowned, then held up his righty and flexed his fingers. “I’ll live,” he said. Even though the words were abrupt, the expression on his face softened just a little.
She slid a flyer under the windshield wipers of each of the cars they passed. Maybe these wouldn’t make any difference in the end, but it felt good to be doing something. At the intersection, Beckett walked the four corners, hanging a flyer on the poles all the way around. The man was hard as heck to engage in conversation, but his actions proved he was a good guy. She’d just remember not to take his gruffness personally.
Nick stayed close to her side, his muscles braced and his gaze doing a constant circuit. His nearness resurrected uninvited memories of their morning activities in his bed. God, he’d felt so good.
“Marz is a really cool guy,” she said, not wanting to think about how amazing Nick had made her feel. Those orgasms had been so good they deserved to have a party thrown in their honor. Complete with confetti and noisemakers. Nor did she want to think about how he’d withdrawn and screwed it all up. “Not everyone would remain so positive after losing a leg.”
Nick nodded, deep admiration sliding into his expression. “He’s the best. Although he is possibly the worst singer you will ever hear in your lifetime.”
Beckett rejoined them and laughed under his breath. “That’s the damn truth.”
“And there are times you would give anything for a roll of duct tape to get him to stop talking for five minutes. But he is loyal to a fault and cool in a crisis . . .” He glanced to her, then Beckett. “Know what he said while Shane was working on him? After the grenade went off?”
The big guy’s head whipped toward him, eyebrows cranked into a sudden frown.
“What?” she said, feeling a little nervous about being between them. If they went at it again like last night, she was going to get squashed.
“He was flat on his back and losing blood like a sieve. I’d balled this scarf I had against the wound, and my hand was red in a matter of minutes. Shane asked him how he was doing. You know, trying to keep him talking to keep him conscious. And Derek said, ‘I think my toenail clippers are going to last twice as long now.’ ”
“Oh, my God. That is horrible . . . and funny.” She chuckled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Beckett turn away, like he was scanning behind them.
When they reached the convenience store parking lot, Beckett grabbed more flyers to hang. The ice had slipped back into his demeanor, and she couldn’t help but wonder why. Becca and Nick went inside, and she looked around the guy in line in front of her to the store clerk, a middle-aged man with a name tag that read, “Prajeet.”
“Can I help you?” he said when it was their turn.
Becca slid a flyer on the counter. “Do you recognize this man, by any chance? He’s my brother, and he went missing. His neighbor told me he would catch cabs from here sometimes.”
Prajeet lifted the paper. “Charlie. I know him. Doritos and Mountain Dew, just about every time.”
Becca’s heart flew into her throat. “Do you remember how long it’s been since you last saw him?”
“Oh.” Prajeet stared out the window in thought. “It’s been at least a week. Maybe two. He came in to use the ATM. It was late, like after midnight. And, yes, he caught a cab.”
Nick stepped in close to her, his hand on her lower back and his thumb stroking her skin through her thin shirt. “Is there any chance you remember what day that was?”
“No. I’m sorry. But I think maybe more like two weeks ago than one.”
She held out her hand. “Thank you so much, Prajeet. I’m Becca. Would you please call that number if you think of anything else? Or if you see him again? It’s really important.”
“I will be happy to do that for you,” he said, returning her shake. He grabbed a roll of clear tape from under the counter. “And I’ll put this here, too.” He taped the flyer to his counter.
Gratitude filled her chest. She wasn’t sure how she’d expected people to act, but so far she felt like they were actually getting somewhere. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking? “That’s wonderful. Thank you.”
Outside, they made their way to the sidewalk and searched for Beckett, who was about half a block down in front of a gas station. She shifted her feet and looked around, suddenly filled with nervous energy and the desire to keep moving forward.
Nick’s hand fell on her shoulder. “Hey.”
Becca met his gaze. “What?”
“Everything’s okay. Breathe,” he said, squeezing gently.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath. How did he know she really needed a little reassurance? “What if we’re too late?” she said, voicing her worst fear as she looked up at him again.
He shook his head. “Stay positive until you have a solid reason to think otherwise, okay? You’ll drive yourself crazy. Today’s going to be a marathon, so you gotta pace yourself.”
“Right. You’re right. Okay.”