Jeremy shook his hair out of his eyes and glared. “I’m not some fucking kid, Nick. I’m a thirty-one-year-old man. At the very least, you should’ve told me so I could keep an eye out for any kind of trouble. I may not be a soldier, but I could help—”
“You’re right. And maybe I should’ve said something more sooner, but we didn’t really know what we might be dealing with until this evening. And we’re still not a hundred percent sure. You’re not a kid. But here’s what you are: you’re a businessman, you’re an employer, you’re a homeowner. You have things to lose and people who count on you.”
“And you don’t?”
Nick stepped back and tossed the papers to the seat of a chair, then scrubbed his hands through his hair. They both had the tendency to do that, and she might’ve found the similarity endearing if it hadn’t been a reflection of their shared frustration right now. “A lot fucking less than you.”
The bottom dropped out of Becca’s stomach. He didn’t think he had anything to lose? Her and whatever they were or weren’t aside, how could he think that about himself? If Jeremy hadn’t been there, she would’ve run across the room, grabbed his face, and told him—
Jeremy’s hands fisted. “You sonofabitch. You and Katherine are the last family I have on this earth. Don’t you dare talk about yourself as if it wouldn’t matter if something happened to you. It would matter to me.”
At the strain in Jer’s voice, tears pooled in Becca’s eyes, and she looked to the ceiling to pinch them off.
Nick’s shoulders sagged and his voice had a sudden strain to it. “Jeremy—”
“I remember what it was like to get that phone call. You know, the one that said my big brother was in critical condition in a hospital following surgery to repair multiple gunshot wounds to the back. Been there, done that, burned the motherfucking T-shirt. I couldn’t do anything about that. I couldn’t help. But this? Now? I can. And you’re goddamned straight gonna let me.”
For a few tense minutes, they faced off across the room, arms crossed over their chests, pale green eyes narrowed and blazing. She wondered if they had any idea how similar they looked or, really, how much alike they were as men. Both strong, both protective of those they cared about, both stubborn to a fault. In that instant, Becca realized she didn’t just like Jeremy, she cared about him, too. And she could’ve hugged him for the way he cared about Nick.
She released a breath and stepped toward them. “Please don’t fight. I’m sorry,” she said, voice tight, sadness parked at the back of her throat.
“I don’t want to fight,” Jeremy said, expression stormy. “And don’t feel like you have to apologize, Becca. I’m not mad at you. If my brother was missing, I’d go to hell and back to find him, too.” Eyebrow arched, he eyeballed Nick. “But I also don’t want to be shut out.”
“Jesus, Jeremy,” Nick said, scratching at the scruff on his jaws. “I’m trying to protect you. Simple as.”
“It’s a flawed premise, bro. If this situation gets worse, you don’t think that has the chance of affecting me whether you tell me all the details now or not?”
“God . . . damnit.” He pounded a fist on the roll-away tabletop. “Shit we’re doing, we are breaking the law. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“You’re my brother,” Jeremy said.
“And you’re mine.”
“Knock, knock,” a voice said from behind Jeremy. He jerked around as Shane stepped alongside him. “Sorry to interrupt. Uh . . .” Shane glanced between the Rixeys. “When you’re done down here, we have some things we wanted to talk about.”
For a long moment, the tension was so thick it almost changed the physical composition of the air. Nick shook his head. “Shit, I didn’t want this for you.”
“And I appreciate that,” Jer said, crossing the room. “But brotherhood is a two-way street. You have to let me walk it with you.”
Nick blew out a long breath that ended in the word, “Fuck. All right.” He shook his head. “All right. Then let’s go see what’s up.”
“No regrets, remember?” Jeremy knocked his fists together side by side, and for the first time, Becca saw what the block lettering on the backs of his fingers said. Reading across his knuckles from his right pinkie to his left, the letters spelled out N-O-R-E-G-R-E-T. Sometime she’d ask him the story behind that tattoo.
The air was suddenly lighter, easier to breathe, and Becca had the sense that whatever had just passed between them was bigger than this moment, this conflict, this situation. Nick just nodded.
As the guys moved around the space turning off lights and making sure everything was locked up, Nick gave Jeremy the quick highlight reel of the past days’ events to bring him up to speed. She hovered at the door with Shane, waiting for them to finish.
“They okay?” he asked, genuine concern shaping his handsome face and filling his intense gray eyes.
“I think so. I don’t know. I didn’t realize Nick was trying to keep Jeremy out of it.”