Falcon Falls Security Boxed Set: Books 1-3, page 76
“Can you put your aunt on the phone, baby girl?” he asked in a gentle tone and pulled the terrace door closed, needing the air-conditioned room to cool down his overheated body.
“Yes, if you promise me one thing. If you promise me you’ll come home alive from wherever you’re really at.”
Beckett closed his eyes and hung his head. Part of him was proud his daughter wouldn’t let anyone pull the wool over her eyes. The other part just wanted her to be a kid. But also a kid with a mother who hadn’t fucking abandoned her.
“I promise,” was all he managed, doing his best not to allow his tone to waver.
“Beckett?” Ella called out, and it was her turn now. He’d more than likely get one hell of a verbal lashing when he came clean to his sister, and it’d be well-deserved.
“I need you to get out of earshot of McKenna before we talk,” he warned, listening to the heels of her cowgirl boots click across the floorboards. When the background noise on her end went quiet, he admitted, “We’re in Mexico. But Jesse and I are currently split up. And he can’t contact you at the moment.”
“Mexico?” Her tone was steady. Calmer than he’d anticipated. This wasn’t her first time dealing with her husband in danger, but it was the first time since the addition of that gummy bear–sized baby in her belly.
“I’m sorry I made Jesse lie to you. I needed someone to have my back, but I didn’t expect things to go down last night the way they did.” He tried to get the truth out as quickly as possible. Rip the Band-Aid off fast.
“McKenna’s mother,” Ella whispered. “That’s the only thing I can think of that’d have you needing Jesse’s help.” He heard the pain in her tone and knew there were tears in her eyes. “And he’s in danger now, isn’t he?”
“I’m here because of her, yes.” He finally parted his lids and saw little white dots in his vision for a moment. “Jesse’s at one of the Sinaloa cartel’s compounds. He willingly went with them, and in a weird twist of fate, they’re indebted to him. He’s not in immediate danger. He’s trying to help me.”
“I don’t understand,” she said softly, her voice most likely not working at normal levels as she tried to wrangle her emotions and process the news. “Isn’t that the same cartel El Chapo used to run? I—I saw a documentary about him.”
He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, so he deflected the best he could. “Carter and a few of his guys are in Mexico and watching the compound. Plans are in motion. I know telling you not to worry is a waste of time, but I won’t let anything happen to your husband. We’ll come back home together.”
“My husband can handle himself. He’s not some fictional character from a movie. He’s the real deal. A badass that bad guys are afraid of . . . and I know my man, he won’t die on me. He won’t leave me and the baby.” Despite her strong words, her voice trembled. “But you, Beck, you promised you’d never go after that woman again. No matter what she told you. And I won’t have her be the death of you. I just won’t have it. She doesn’t deserve you or McKenna.”
“I know,” he said, gripping the back of his neck with his free hand. “And you’re right. Jesse will be fine.” He needed his sister to hang on to that thought, to not stress and worry. To stay tough. “And I will be too. But can I be the one to tell A.J. about this?”
He didn’t want his situation distracting A.J. while on a mission. “I’ll tell him when he’s back home.” Whenever that might be. “I have to go,” he added when he heard a knock on the door, assuming it was Oliver. “I love you, sis. And tell McKenna I love her too.” He ended the call before she had a chance to say more because his stomach and his heart wouldn’t be able to tolerate a response.
On his way to the door, he dialed up Elaina’s mother, Emily, assuming her husband was also working the op with A.J., and he didn’t want to disturb him.
Beckett opened the door and stepped aside so Oliver could enter as the call went to voicemail. “Hey, Emily, it’s Beckett. We need to talk. Call me when you get a chance.”
“Everything okay?” Oliver asked while heading straight to the bed, his eyes focused on the heavy-duty black case there.
Beckett pocketed his phone as Oliver opened it up and retrieved a 9mm and a mag. He chambered a round and inserted the standard magazine of 15 rounds into the weapon, so it was fully loaded. “I just spoke to my sister. She seems to be more worried about me than her husband despite the fact he’s the one in a cartel compound.”
Oliver pivoted to face him, tucking the weapon at his back in the waistband of his jeans. He was dressed nearly identical to Beckett, minus the cowboy boots. He had on military-style black lace-up boots instead.
“That’s because Jesse is Jesse. And you, well, I guess you’ll need to prove your skills to all of us before we decide if you can hang with the big boys.” Oliver flashed him a quick smile, clearly not worried about his teammate, which should have put Beckett more at ease. “But first, you’ll need to survive a confrontation with Sydney.” He flicked the brim of his plain black ball cap as if to say, Good luck.
Sydney. Great. Another tough woman he needed to deal with. “Any updates from Carter and Gray?” he asked once they left the hotel suite and were alone in the stairwell. His room was only two flights away from Sydney’s.
“They’re positioned outside the compound, but they can’t get into any overwatch positions. It’s in the middle of the desert. And putting up one of our small drones during daylight hours to try and spot Jesse on the inside would be stupid. So for now, the boys are on standby.”
Beckett had to trust Jesse and his instincts. He chose to get in that Cadillac last night. He knew what he was doing.
“They’re probably by the pool or at the beach,” Oliver suggested after they’d located Sydney’s room and their knocking went unanswered.
Beckett nodded, and they headed outside in search of the two women. “So, how well do you know this woman Sydney is with?” he asked once they’d determined they weren’t at the pool.
Oliver tossed him a quick look from across his shoulder, a smirk meeting his eyes. “You looking for the Cliffs Notes or the unabridged version?”
“You pick.” Beckett shielded his eyes from the sun as he scanned the nearby beach and found himself slowing his pace, not all that eager to tell Sydney what he’d gotten her teammate tangled up in.
“Short version,” Oliver decided. “After the Army, but before joining Falcon, I was a bodyguard for a real estate mogul in Dubai. My boss was, well, thrown from a building, and I was set up as his attacker. Accused of killing him.”
Beckett stopped in his tracks. The short version of the story was a fucking doozy already. He couldn’t imagine the long explanation.
Oliver faced him and shrugged. “Mya and I have mutual friends, and she assisted in a roundabout way to ensure my name was cleared so I wasn’t”—he ran his thumb across his throat—“executed.”
“Well, that’s, uh, quite a story.”
Beckett blinked in shock when Oliver added, “Your brother and his SEAL buddies helped save my neck too.”
He supposed he wasn’t all that surprised. A.J. tended to save the world a lot, from what he’d learned. Even post-military. But A.J. had made it clear he’d never help Beckett go after McKenna’s mom again, not even if she called from her deathbed. A.J. hated the woman, but how in the hell was Beckett supposed to let McKenna’s mother die?
“Small world, I guess,” Oliver added as they began walking the boardwalk to approach the loungers set up near the water. “Mya happens to be friends with Sydney as well, and Sydney’s interested in Mya’s talents. She was a journalist in New York before joining a security team of former Marines who hunt down human traffickers. She’s great at finding people. Top-notch research skills.”
“And Sydney wants to poach her from the Marines?” Beckett was surprised by the unexpected smile on his lips that he quickly erased with the back of his hand.
“Or at least borrow her from time to time. I think she wants another woman on the team. Maybe serve as a buffer between her and Gray.” Oliver chuckled, but Beckett wasn’t clued in on the joke. “Gray and Sydney dated back at West Point, and I swear, the way that man still looks at her when we operate . . .”
Ah, enough said. Not that he ever planned on making a move on Sydney, but he wouldn’t let her occupy his thoughts again when he needed to relieve some tension. She may have been who he’d imagined a few times since Savanna and Griffin’s wedding last month, but he wouldn’t think about another man’s woman.
“There they are.” Oliver pointed, and Beckett clenched his jaw at the sight. “Not awkward at all, considering they’re topless. We should take our shirts off so they don’t feel uncomfortable,” Oliver teased as they neared the two women.
Beckett advanced with slow steps and looked around, taking in the other sunbathers. “I don’t think this is a nude beach.” He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, or for that to be the first thing Sydney heard.
Sydney turned her head to the side and put eyes on the two of them. Her glasses shielded her gaze, so he couldn’t tell if she was surprised or pissed to see him and Oliver there. She casually sat upright, and it took every ounce of willpower for Beckett to keep his gaze above her breasts, but they were perfectly fucking perfect and right there.
“You going to arrest me, Sheriff?” A smile briefly flitted across her glossy lips. “I think we’re outside your jurisdiction.”
“He’s the sheriff?” Beckett overheard Mya ask, but he still couldn’t rip his eyes free from Sydney’s face despite the fact Mya seemed to know of him, for whatever reason.
“Hey, we paid good money for these. Gotta show them off. It was a two-for-one special.” He had no clue if Mya was joking, not that he cared. He believed a woman ought to do whatever she wanted with her body if it made her happier or more confident. He wasn’t one to judge.
Not that he didn’t want McKenna to love and accept herself, which he was certain she did, but . . . why am I thinking about this right now?
Sydney reached for her top and secured the two little black triangles over her breasts.
Part of him wanted to thank God she was covering up, but the larger, more throbbing part of him begged the devil to have the breeze blow the fabric into the Caribbean.
“Good to see you again, Mya,” Oliver piped up, his tone low and almost growly. Had seeing Mya topless done a number on his brain?
“Oliver,” Mya softly responded and stood alongside Sydney, both their tops now securely in place. “Happy to see all of your . . . body parts still intact.”
Beckett was pretty sure the light laugh from Oliver was borderline flirty, but before Oliver could say more, Sydney spoke up, “I can guess why you’re here.” She pushed her sunglasses into her hair while settling her gaze on Oliver. “But not you.” She reached for a black, see-through wrap thing and circled it around her hips, tying it into a skirt.
Beckett did his best not to clock every inch of her exposed skin. But he noticed what looked like a tiny scar above her belly button, which had him wondering if she’d had a navel piercing at one point. And he couldn’t help but observe the way her cleavage popped out of her top as if her breasts preferred to be free again.
“Did something happen to Jesse?” Sydney asked Beckett, cutting straight to the point. “That’s the only reason I can think of as to why you’d be here. And I’m also going to assume you’re somehow to blame for what’s happened.”
Smart woman.
“Jesse’s currently inside one of the Sinaloa cartel’s compounds in Juárez, but we’re hoping he’ll use his newfound popularity to lead them here to Tulum, or somewhere close by,” Oliver announced, maintaining his casual and worry-free tone when Beckett had yet to explain.
“And you’re right, it’s my fault,” Beckett confessed, his gaze fixed on Sydney’s gorgeous light green eyes. Her blonde hair settled in waves over sun-kissed shoulders, and she brushed her hair to her back as she studied him.
“The Sinaloas?” Mya whispered after a slight gasp, her reaction making it clear she’d heard of the cartel. Considering she was once a journalist, that made sense.
But then Mya abruptly looked toward the sea, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths, and Beckett couldn’t help but wonder if her knowledge of the cartel was more than just an occupational hazard.
“This is about a woman, am I right?” Sydney’s question caught him off guard. How in the hell did she know that?
Beckett took what he hoped wasn’t a noticeable gulp. “Why do you say that?”
“Women are often the reason men do stupid things,” Sydney responded.
Ain’t that the truth.
“And your brother-in-law wouldn’t be where he is right now if someone hadn’t screwed with your head. So, who’s the woman? And how in the hell did she manage to get my teammate into such a precarious situation?”
Beckett exchanged a quick look with Oliver. “I was looking for my daughter’s mother.”
Sydney tilted her head at his confession, genuine surprise crossing her face this time. Or was that sympathy? Empathy? He couldn’t think of the right word at the moment, not with her looking at him like that. Like she somehow understood his dilemma and his pain.
Maybe Jack was right, and Beckett did need backup when facing her, but it wasn’t for the reasons he’d suggested. No, it was because this woman could break down his fucking walls and make him forget he was a gentleman, all without breaking a sweat. She was dangerous. And the last thing he needed was another dangerous woman in his life who’d have him throwing reason out the window.
“Did you find her?” Mya asked, breaking the silence. Sydney had yet to look away from Beckett, those green eyes of hers still peering straight into his soul.
“No, but I found the woman who taught McKenna’s mother everything. The woman who showed her how to be a con artist and manipulate people.” Beckett paused for a beat, taking a moment to cool his rising anger. “If anyone will know where my daughter’s mother, Cora, is . . . it’s Ivy, McKenna’s aunt.”
CHAPTER SIX
Sydney’s eyes landed on the large, vibrantly colored photo of a cenote that hung over the king-sized bed as she removed her bikini top and bottoms. She and Mya had visited the jungle area of Tulum yesterday, and Sydney had been captivated by the beauty and history of the cenotes, which she’d learned from their tour guide was pronounced “seh-no-tays.”
The Yucatan Peninsula was home to thousands of these natural limestone sinkholes. As the only source of freshwater, they were sacred to the ancient Mayans. It was believed Chaac, their god of rain, resided at the bottom of the cenotes, and sacrifices were commonplace to please the deity.
Their guide had invited them to join one of the small snorkel tours, but Mya had chickened out. “Swim around in an underground hole that is connected to hundreds of other underground holes? With my luck, I’d somehow get sucked under and be the next sacrifice.”
Mya could chase down human traffickers but getting into a body of water that wasn’t crystal clear was somehow out of the question.
Sydney pulled her attention down to the cerulean-blue comforter, a match to the sea, and her thoughts drifted to last night. To that romance novel and the fictitious images of Beckett’s warm body heating hers.
And now he’s here. Mya would call that serendipitous or something as colorful.
“Sydney?” a voice she recognized asked from outside her door. She’d planned to meet everyone at the beachfront bar after she and Mya went to their rooms to change, so she wasn’t sure why Beckett had decided to drop by.
“Yeah, one second,” she responded, quickly searching for anything to put on. There was no way in hell she was answering the door naked, even though a tiny part of her wanted to do just that and see how Beckett responded.
After securing a white silk robe from the closet, she knotted the tie at her waist and swung open the bright blue door.
Beckett was a far cry from the vest-wearing suits she’d dated here and there in the last several years, but he made an impression in all the right ways. He gave off a badass Walker, Texas Ranger vibe, a reminder of the Chuck Norris show she’d watched as a kid with her grandfather. Not that Beckett looked like good ol’ Chuck, but damn. She’d noticed Beckett’s swagger the first time on New Year’s Eve at Jesse and Ella’s wedding.
At six feet, probably two inches, and she’d guess even taller with his cowboy boots on right now, Beckett smoothed a hand over his five o’clock shadow, wordlessly studying her. Taking in the sight of her from her bare feet on up to her beach-wavy blonde hair.
She was guilty of the same, cataloging every inch of the man before her.
A white tee hugged his broad shoulders and muscular biceps, and she knew if he turned around, his ass would look oh-so fine in those well-worn jeans. Were they Wranglers? Weren’t those a cowboy-type brand?
Beckett fidgeted with his black ball cap. She had a feeling he was far more comfortable wearing a cowboy hat, but he’d draw a lot more attention to himself donning one of those at the resort. And she doubted attention was what he was going for, given the circumstances.
“Hi,” he finally managed, breaking the silence first. Sydney had to blink away the salacious thoughts that’d popped into her head courtesy of the fictitious world she’d happily lived in beneath the bedsheets last night.
“I was hoping we could start over.” He cleared his throat and, likely inadvertently, let his gaze flick down to her chest before meeting her eyes once again.
“Oh?” She leaned into the doorframe, keeping the door propped open with her shoulder. “I thought we got off to an excellent start.”
“Yeah, see,” he began, closing his eyes for a brief moment, “I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, but I reckon it is.” That Southern drawl of his had her stomach doing a weird little flip. “But I do apologize for seeing—”
