Return to Poughkeepsie (4 page)

“More? You want my dick? Eve, you whore, you want it?” Beckett bit her neck.

All she could do was moan.

“Say my fucking name. Now.” Beckett stilled his hand.

She panted. “I hate you.”

He yanked her hair and forced her to look at him. He took the hand from between her legs and held her jaw tenderly, the smell of her sex between them.

Her blue eyes filled with tears. “I love you.”

His forceful manner slipped. His voice caught on the emotion in his throat. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They kissed deeply, lovers on a balcony, until Beckett broke the kiss. “Say my name.” He rubbed his length against her back, reminding her what he had to offer.

“No, asshole. You say mine.” Eve adjusted her hips, and he bent his knees.

All the way in on the first thrust.

Beckett had taken Eve from her now-exposed former place of shelter. He’d registered them brazenly with his given name in a fancy hotel on the other side of town, far from Lollipop’s. After a night of fucking everywhere they could prop themselves up, they’d fallen asleep together.

The next morning, Eve lay in the soft, crisp, monochromatic hotel sheets, seemingly exhausted. Beckett moved so very slowly—she was always quick and ready to kill. But to see her lie in the gentle feathers of morning sunlight was a treat he’d never expected again. The white light had not a hint of gold, and her pale skin grabbed and absorbed it. He propped his head on one hand, and the other itched, wanting to touch her.
Is her skin warm from the sun?

She looked just like the Eve who’d laughed and joked with the little girl at the safe house more than a year ago. Here, in his bed. Her face’s little slopes created such loveliness. Beckett allowed just the smallest part of his fingertip to skate over her skin. It was warm. He indulged himself in the feel of the nape of her neck. He had choked it so often to bring her pleasure. Under her eyes were marks left from the dark that stayed with those who had seen too much of the night. She’d slept poorly without him.

Instead of feeling a cocky pride, he ached for her, for this peaceful Eve. A sight this fucking magnificent added to the world, gave it peace, made the sky more blue. He traced her breast, smiling as her nipple reacted in her sleep. Reflexes—things she couldn’t control, like him. She loved him, and it hurt her. He traced her radiating skin, possessive, refusing to let the blaze of the sun have all the claim on this Eve. He slowed to trace her navel.

She sighed in her sleep and turned toward his touch. He slipped his arm under her head, letting his bicep be her pillow. She snuggled deeper, trusting him. Sleeping with him. Beckett hugged her closer.
Protection. Family.
The words still stirred something inside. But as his greedy hand traced her hourglass shape, he saw something for the first time: Her hip—this spot that drove him crazy, drove him with the need to bury his dick in her—was more than just a grip. It was the perfect spot to prop a chubby little kid. A baby would hang like a koala, using this gorgeous hip as a notch to stay closer to Eve.

He traced her shape back up to her face and lay his hand on her cheek.
I love her. So fucking much. I’m going to give her everything. Everything she never even knew she needed
. He rolled her off his arm to lay on her back again. He positioned himself between her legs and slid slowly into her center. Rocking gently, pushing slowly, so different than any other time. She sighed again in her sleep. He paused in his gentle, sexual alarm clock to kiss her forehead.

Eve’s eyes fluttered open, like Snow White waking. In an instant she had the gun she kept under her pillow pointed between his eyes. Soft Eve became deadly in less time than it took to exhale.

Beckett continued his slow, methodical thrusts while smiling at his venomous lady. “I love you, Eve.” He watched as the white light and his own revelation confused her. She latched the safety back on her pistol and slid it under the pillow. He saw the sneer begin to form as she readied herself for their violent screwing.

“I want to make love to you, without pain,” he said. “I want to make love to
you
, the woman I just watched dreaming.”

Instead of turning her hands into claws, she flattened them on his chest. “Love?” she said, with cautious, skeptical eyes.

Beckett just nodded and slowly moved in and out of her.

She looked above his head.

“Look at you,” he continued. “I want to build things for you, give you a reason to be soft. Give you a reason not to reach for a fucking gun when you open your eyes.” He increased his tempo.

She blinked, her eyes clouding with tears, but she looked at him. Instead of twisting her like a pretzel, he gathered her closer, bringing her against his chest, kneeling while she straddled him.

Eve buried her face in the hollow of his neck.

He leaned his cheek against her head as he moved in her. “You don’t have to say anything. Just feel me inside you.”

Together they moved, so different, so soft.

Eve’s tears finally spilled. Beckett waited until they were both spent, rearranging their bodies so he could cuddle her back against his chest. He didn’t want to see her reaction to his next words. Though limp now, he remained surrounded by her warmth.

“I think you love me with your hate. I want you to love me from the same part of your heart that loved David.” He expected some arguing, but she was still, frozen in his arms. “I’m asking too much—I know that. I’m not worth your heart yet, but I’m gonna be. Eve, the next time you see me, I’m going to be a man worth it.” He turned her head and kissed her now salty lips. “Just don’t fuck anybody else.”

He reluctantly pulled from her and began to dress. He skipped the shower so he could still smell her skin on his body. She stayed curled in the mold he had made for her, not getting up to stop him. He could tell she wanted this too. She wanted him to be part of her normal, no matter how fucked up it was going to be. He was almost to the door when she spoke. He could see her reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

“Just make sure you come back, Beckett. I’ll go crazy if you don’t.”

He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. “You’ll be underneath me again. I promise.”

3

My Left Nut

I
T
W
AS
A N
ICE
F
UCKING
D
AY
—and not just because of how his morning began. Beckett was trying to look at the world with new eyes. If he was going to be a different person, there were two men he needed to talk to. So back into the Lincoln he went for another ungodly thirty-five hour drive. He pulled his cap down low and adopted a thuggish lean. He needed to get in and out of Poughkeepsie one more time. Which was stupid, but that seemed to be his modus operandi of late.

When he finally rolled in, his ass vowing never to forgive him, he called Blake, but Livia reported he’d gone for a walk. She didn’t need to say anything more. The spot in the woods where Blake had almost taken his last breath was also his favorite place in the world.

By the time Beckett arrived, it was twilight. The sun dusted the tops of the trees with the last of its energy. He parked in the lot at Firefly Park as Blake emerged from the trees. Beckett just watched his brother for a minute. Blake turned toward the fading sun and nodded, like one man would to another. Acknowledging. Beckett covered his face briefly to make sure his suddenly watery eyes wouldn’t spill over onto his cheeks.

When he glanced back up, Blake was coming toward him. Of course he’d noticed him. Blake was so fucking observant. Beckett tried his door before realizing it was locked. He damn near ripped off the button in his haste to get to Blake. He got the thing open just as Blake closed in. They pounded each other on the back vigorously.

“Beck? What the hell?” Blake pulled away to look at his face, as if making sure he was real.

Beckett disentangled himself to hold up his arm in their standard greeting. Blake nodded to him much like he had the receding sun before wrapping his forearm around Beckett’s, drawing their matching tattoos together.

“Brother. I’ve missed you. Damn it.” Blake looked close to tears himself as he pulled Beckett into another pounding hug. “This is not safe at all. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Baby, I got to change some shit, and you’re one of only two people in the world I want advice from.” Beckett slapped Blake’s shoulder again. “But say the word and I’m gone.”

Blake shook his head as if the thought pained him. “Let’s get out of sight.”

They climbed into the car, and Beckett eased them into the thickening night. They kept smiling stupidly at each other.

“You look like crap. Wow. What the hell’s going on?” Blake looked worried.

Beckett ignored the question and kept his eyes on the road. “Can you text Cole in a way that keeps this quiet?”

Blake pulled out his cell phone and typed a quick message. He flashed it in Beckett’s direction before hitting send:

Listening to the Ave Maria in the car.

Almost immediately Cole’s response chimed through:

I’d love 2 join u. Get me at the church?

As he read it over the center console, Beckett flipped on his right turn signal.

“So you stopped by to see Livia?” Blake didn’t sound thrilled. Beckett couldn’t blame him. He was a time bomb strapped to a landmine.

“I won’t do that again. Don’t worry.” Beckett tried not to feel the walls of his isolation narrow beyond where he could breathe.

Blake nodded. “So you know about the baby.”

“It’s going to be okay. There’s no way in hell you’ll be like your mom—just so you know.” Beckett gave Blake a side-glance. He’d guessed right. Considering Blake’s alcoholic mother and series of tragic foster homes, he had no good role models for being a parent—particularly a dad.

“She’s so excited, and I am too, don’t get me wrong. But crap. We know what happens when you do it wrong, you know?” Blake made a fist on his lap.

Beckett shook his head. It was going to be a long blob of months for his brother. “I know a few things. Not a lot, mind you, but a few things. And one of those is that a kid who gets raised by you will be honest and kind and able to survive in the wild for months at a time.”

Blake laughed, and Beckett tried not to be obvious as he drank the noise in.

They stopped at a red light—all slow like, no cause for attention. Beckett turned to his brother, this shattered man so whole now, and looked him up and down. “I would’ve given my left nut to be raised by a man like you.”

Blake held out his arm and Beckett grasped it so their tattoos touched again. “I feel the same way about you,” Blake said.

The light changed, and Beckett smiled at Blake before returning to his task. Two quick turns and Beckett killed the headlights as he approached the dark church. Cole rapped with a knuckle on the back window, and within seconds the car was rolling again. Beckett managed to drive as Cole bear-hugged him from the backseat, but barely. He held up his arm and his brothers wrapped theirs around it in an awkward, but exuberant celebration.

“What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” Cole squeezed the back of Beckett’s neck and pounded Blake on the shoulder.

“We’re good. Beckett just wants some advice, right?” Blake looked over at him with those trusting green eyes.

“True.” Beckett glanced in his rearview mirror. “How’s the home front? Please tell me Fairy Princess will soon be knocked up with triplets you’re naming after the three of us.”

Beckett pulled into an empty driveway. The economy had taken its toll on almost the whole block, and each house in the row showed the abuse of abandonment. He threaded the car around some overgrown bushes and onto the paved patio behind the house.

“We’re really excited about becoming an
aunt
and
uncle
,” Cole said as Beckett parked the car. “Let’s leave the parent thing to the professionals. Kyle’s already got enough baby clothes to stock a store, even though we don’t know what sex it is, right?”