Poughkeepsie (61 page)

“I hate to say this—ever—but my dad is right. I’ll tell you what, I wish I’d married David.” Eve’s eyes got a faraway look. “I wanted to wait until after the baby and when we’d saved up enough to have a real, big wedding.”

Blake was stoic as she picked the right words.

“But to have heard him say I do…” She trailed off and ran her hand through her hair.

Blake touched his heart, perhaps remembering his own brush with death.

“And that ring deserves another sixty years and more of love on it,” she said, gesturing toward the drawer. “I’d never say this out loud to anyone, but I guess we’re getting all touchy-feely: Livia? She’s the bravest chick I’ve ever met. Let her have it, Blake. Let her have what I never did.” Eve nodded and headed for his door.

She let him catch up to open it for her, knowing his chivalrous behavior gave him peace.

“I’ll be here tomorrow.” Eve patted his forearm.

Blake took a deep breath and nodded.

It took an entire week to actually get to Cup O’ Joe’s—even with the sun shields Livia had found for Blake. But Eve turned out to be just what he needed: a firm, uncompromising taskmaster. She always seemed to know how far to push him before she’d let him stop and try again the next day.

One day Beckett asked her what her trick was.

“His pupils,” she answered immediately. “When a man gets so scared he’s close to losing his mind, his pupils dilate.” She shrugged. “When he gets there, we get to shade.”

Over the next few weeks, Blake grew stronger and began to set aside his coverings. Now better able to see him, Eve studied him closely as they walked. His eyes never stopped watching the faces of those passing by. He seemed truly astounded that they had no reaction to the sight of him. They couldn’t see his past etched into his skin.

The day Blake finally made it to the coffee shop uncovered, he and Eve touched paper cups of steaming brew in a toast. And they talked for a long time about his mother and what had made his skin glass. Eve tried her best to listen for him the way he’d absorbed her story about David. He seemed to be gaining some perspective on his situation, which Eve believed to be as crucial as the minutes that ticked by with sun on his skin, right out in public.

As they left, Eve watched him slide the coffee sleeve off the drink and put it in his pocket.

After they’d walked a few blocks, she questioned him. “Why’d you keep the sleeve?”

Blake pulled out the cardboard and looked down at it. “Just to remember I could do it.”

Eve grabbed it from him quickly, ripped it in half, and threw it in a trashcan on the sidewalk. Blake held his hands up and gave her a
What the hell?
look.

“Don’t tie your success to anything other than what’s inside you.” She stepped up to him and gently patted his heart. “
You
did this, Blake. You. Not the coffee, not me, not Livia. You did this.”

Blake nodded. He motioned for her to continue walking, and she did.

Building up suited Eve much better than tearing down ever did. She recounted Blake’s careful steps for Beckett each day when she returned to him at the current safe house in the evenings. There was little else she could do to ease the frustration of his imprisonment, other than tend to the sexual beast in him.

A couple weeks later Blake worked up to walking to the coffee shop by himself—and most other places too. Eve had watched from behind a tree the afternoon she found him sitting on the patio, just basking in the sun. That very night Blake had proposed to Livia with their great-grandmother’s ring. And Livia had said yes.

Eve had been thrilled, with only a tinge of regret, as Blake recounted his betrothal and early wedding plans over their coffee that day. But now Eve grew uneasy. She had to tell Beckett there was another wedding to attend from a distance. Blake had refused to appoint anyone else as best man. He said it was Beckett’s place, whether he filled it or not. Cole would officiate.

Beckett would have to make some decisions, and this news might put him over the edge.

Beckett rode the four-wheel ATV over a huge mound of dirt, and the vehicle went airborne. His helmet slipped, nearly covering his eyes. He hated it, but he didn’t have a choice. Eve demanded the security and privacy it provided.
Like anyone could find me here.

Eve had stashed him in Rhinebeck, New York, in a place off the road, off a driveway, then off a dirt path. The house had at least forty acres of woods surrounding it and very few neighbors. It belonged to some half-dead celebrity who never used it anymore. Eve paid the rent in cash, and the agreement was verbal. Beckett allowed himself the luxury of expecting this sort of perfection from her.

He pulled the ATV to a stop and unzipped the leather jacket he wore, revealing his shirtless, chiseled chest.
No need to get dressed up. Only deer and chipmunks buttfucking each other out here in the boondocks.

He managed a smile, cracking himself up a little, as Eve pulled up on her motorcycle.

“How’s he doing?” he hollered as soon as she cut the engine.

Her eyes paused on his naked, damp chest. He made his pecs dance to get a smile. She looked away.

“It may technically be spring, but it’s cold out here, Beckett. What’s wrong with you?” Beckett just smirked, so Eve continued. “Blake’s doing great. He was in the sun for hours today. Beckett, he asked Livia to marry him. He says you’re the best man. He says it’s your place and he’d rather have it empty than have anyone else.” She peeled off her riding gloves.

Beckett hung his head. The news hit him right in his heart’s nuts. Hungry for physical connection, he pushed himself into her personal space, corralling her with his arms against the bike.

“I got to get to town before the store closes. I just came back for the minivan,” she said quickly. “We don’t have time for this.” She didn’t push him away, but he could feel the chill rolling off her.

“No need to bruise my dick. It’s all good. Why don’t you get a steak? I’ll grill it.”

Eve did finally smirk a bit. “After the sun goes down it’s going to be twenty-eight degrees. You planning on grilling them with napalm?”

The change in her face made him try harder. “Fuck buying steaks. I’ll torch us some raccoon. I saw some back there.”

He pointed over his shoulder. Eve put a hand on his chest.

“Upstate raccoons will kick your ass,” she said, digging in with her nails. “They’d have you crying like a bitch and wearing a dress in no time.” Her hand traced the fine white scars she’d put on his skin during these two months of lying low.

He was insatiable these days. Beckett knew the time without social interaction was making him even more depraved and twisted. She’d been trying to convince him to leave the country with her—probably because she’d begun to fear he’d fuck her to death.

But as attractive as a tropical island alone with Eve might be, Beckett knew he could never go. He couldn’t be that far from his brothers. What if one of them needed him? What if Eve’s dad needed her? Family was family.

Beckett was so fucking proud of his lady and his brother. His heart threatened to swell out of his chest whenever he thought of her patiently, diligently working to get Blake into the sun. He just wished it could have been him. Maybe he’d send Eve to be Blake’s fucking best man. Jesus. He grabbed his helmet and thought for a moment about chucking it as far as it could go, but instead he stuffed his jealousy deep inside and turned to walk with Eve back to the safe house.

Just one month later, as May began, the next wedding date arrived. Once Blake had conquered the sun, he let nothing hold him back from creating the life he’d always wanted. Livia and Blake had worked quickly to arrange their train-platform nuptials, and when Livia had suggested a wedding after dark, Blake shook his head. He’d insisted the ceremony be held in the full beauty of the sunset.

Eve dressed quietly after lunch that afternoon, choosing the same dress and hummingbird pin she’d worn to Cole and Kyle’s wedding. As she checked her hair in the bedroom mirror, he appeared behind her. Beckett wore a crisp, white button-down shirt and jeans. They’d agreed he would stay home and watch the live feed again.

“Why did you pick a hummingbird for the camera?” He reached around and touched the gold wings. “’Cause they’re so cute and pretty?”

He dared to tease her on this day, this twisty, pointy, dangerous day.

“They’re vicious loners,” she said quietly, speaking to her reflection. “Did you know that? They spend most of their time alone, protecting what’s theirs.”

Beckett’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that how you see you?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I am. What I am now.”

She knew regret shone in her eyes before she closed them, and Beckett took a step back. She could sense the guilt rolling off of him and opened her mouth to speak when the high-pitched whine of one of her tripwires pierced the heavy atmosphere.

She kicked off her heels and had a gun in her hand before the alarm stopped. She nodded at Beckett, and he went to the closet to wait. They’d been through the drill before: a slow deer, a meter reader, a hunter.

He turned to watch her slide by him. He leaned against the doorframe. He didn’t want to hide any more. His brother was finally out in the fucking sunlight, and here he was cowering from what might be a fat squirrel. He heard Eve trot down the stairs and exit the house through the back door. She was a machine, really. She knew all the right moves. She was a hummingbird.
No, not really. She’s a freaking happy canary that I’ve squeezed into a rubber hummingbird costume
.

Beckett heard barking. He sidestepped his way to the window he should have been avoiding and stood behind the sheer. He watched as a dopey-looking beagle sniffed and skittered its way onto the front lawn. He heard another high-pitched whine. The alarm had sounded again.

He stepped to the center of the window and had to scan the lawn to find Eve. Her blond ponytail was the only thing he could see. She was behind a tree for cover. Beckett hit the window with one knuckle. Her eyes found the noise he made instantly. He pointed to his ear and held up two fingers.

She nodded once and gave him a glare that clearly said, “Get back in the fucking closet.”

He ignored her and stepped behind the sheer again. Up the rocky path pedaled the most unlikely of assassins. A little girl about six years old pumped her chubby legs on a pink-and-white bike. The tassels on the handlebars swung in a steady rhythm, and she had a stuffed dolphin crammed in the basket in front of her.

The little girl was freaking adorable. Beckett watched through the murky sheer as Eve put the safety on her gun and knelt to hide it behind a root of the tree. She seemed to stay on her knee a moment, catching her breath.
That’s a first.
Beckett was mesmerized by Eve’s reaction. He carefully slid the window open a crack so he could hear their conversation.

The beagle bounded over to the now unarmed Eve, tongue lolling. Eve offered her hand for the dog to sniff, which it did and then took off in another direction.

“Peanut! No! Bad dog, come back. Lady! Lady, grab him!” The little girl had an even more adorable voice.

Why the hell is she out here in the middle of nowhere? She’s so fucking little.

Eve looked at her new self-appointed boss. “Did he run away?”