NINE
It hadn’t been longafter we snuck back out of Detective Kilroy’s office that Beckham and Royal emerged from their individual questioning sessions, and they called Wilder and me for our interviews.
A blur—that’s what it’d been—and Detective Norwood asked a lot of the same questions Simms had. Logic tells me they do that to make sure my story holds up and I’m not changing details to hide something. Honestly, I simply wanted to be done with it.
Chewing on my lip, I train my focus on the buildings and cars we’re passing on the way back to my house and try to let the bubbling panic inside me calm. Unfortunately, it’s proving to be more and more difficult with every passing second. We’re back to the waiting game again—waiting to see if more sick photos are delivered. Waiting to see if someone attacks the people I care about. Waiting for the day when the person watching me sleep isn’t Beckham and this psycho finally follows through with their threats.
Wilder reaches across the console, taking my clammy hand in his. His brows dart together. “Echo, I can tell you’re upset, so you may as well tell us. This is as good a time as any. No one’s here but us.”
There’s some shuffling around in the back seat, and Beckham must have shifted forward in his seat behind me, because his warm hand grasps my shoulder, his thumb moving back and forth over my skin. “What’s up, gorgeous? You got something on your mind?”
Before I can say anything, Royal grits out, “Do we not all have shit on our minds after all that mind-numbing questioning?” From the tone of his voice, I can tell the trip into policelandia was no less than agonizing for him. Honestly, he’s handling it really fucking well, all things considered. He could totally be wigging out considering his probation status.
I turn sideways in my seat and meet his gaze, offering him a reassuring but tremulous smile. “We do. I’m sorry that was rough for you.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap at you,” he grunts out before turning his head to stare out the window to his left. That’s my cue to leave him alone for the time being, I think.
My eyes shift across the console to Wilder. He seems okay now, but boy was he not in a good place earlier. That crapfest in the lobby had been terrible. I witnessed firsthand how much of a cocky dick his brother-in-law can be and how much it affects Wilder. A tiny smirk works its way onto my lips—fucking me on that asshole’s desk had done him a world of good. And it’d given me a reprieve from the turmoil in my head, if only for a few minutes.
Finally, I allow my gaze to wander to the back seat again so I can assess Beckham’s mental state. Peering at him, I’m immediately struck by the way his bright-blue eyes bore into mine as if he’s staring into the depths of my soul. We look at each other until I finally break the spell he has me under. When I really think about the vibe he’s throwing off, he seems… perhaps a little amped up, if I had to choose a way to describe the expression gracing his handsome face. Then again, I bet so much of this is right up his alley with his studies, so maybe it’s not that strange that he’d be interested in the process we’re going through in the aftermath of Freya and Zane’s deaths. He told me about the sorts of things they discuss in his criminology classes. Yet, I’m finding myself worried about whether he’s really okay, because I can’t imagine what it’s been like for him with what we found in his bed.
Semi-assured that no one is going to fling themselves into the deep end without a pool noodle or the ability to swim, I exhale heavily. “You want to know what’s on my mind? I’ll tell you. Unless I’m utterly distracted by something else, ever since we turned on Beckham’s light and found them, my brain won’t fucking stop. I can’t get it out of my head.”
Wilder squeezes my hand. “Time. I think it’s going to take time.” His dark eyes leave the road for a split second to find mine before he signals to make the turn to my house.
I wet my parched lips. “My first question is this—” I swallow hard, pausing to gather my thoughts. “I’m assuming if they didn’t mention Freya having the key to my room to me, they didn’t mention it to any of you either.”
There’s a round of head shakes and murmurs of “Nope” and “Not me, either.”
A sigh heaves from me. “I don’t see a connection yet, but there must be a reason Freya had a copy of my key. Not only did she have it, she stole it from Cassie, then had it specifically made for… what purpose?”
“Do you think it was her leaving the photos?” Wilder side-eyes me as he drums his thumbs on the steering wheel.
I shrug. “If so, what the actual fuck? And how did she get her hands on them?”
“Good question.” Royal rubs a few fingers over his lips. “I assume the burner phone Cassie told us about—which also didn’t come up in the second round of questioning—is where the text messages to me were coming from.”
Staring at him, I scrape my teeth over my lip. “I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re probably right. Who knows if they’ll fill us in on that either.”
Beckham glances around the truck. “Did any of us learn anything new? Because I can’t imagine they got much of anything different from us at all. I mean, they asked me a few new questions, but nothing noteworthy.” He lowers his voice to sound like Detective Norwood. “‘Son, I hear that was your room where you all found the bodies.’ To which I responded, ‘Was that a question?’” He huffs out a laugh. “He told me he didn’t like my insolent attitude, but I played nice from there.”
I sigh, squirming a bit, finally admitting to myself that I need to tell them everything, but not wanting to do it all at the same time. I clear my throat, going for the easy stuff first. “The detective brought up the fact that they’d been out to TZE a few days ago because of the stalker issue, and he pointedly asked if I had any idea who that was or if the person who’d been targeting me could be involved.” That line of questioning had set my heart to clanging in my chest, as I’m worried about them finding something that points to Beckham, instead of the other asshole.
I shoot a furtive glance at the guys, my lips clamping together. I really don’t want to tell them about Zane’s off behavior before he died. It’ll just piss them off. I moan, the sound reverberating in the back of my throat.
Wilder sucks some air between his teeth. “Legacy.” His voice comes out gritty, and when I turn my head toward him, his jaw works to the side. “Baby, I think you’re keeping something from us.”
My eyes flick to his dark probing ones, and my face crumples. I cover it with my hand, leaning the side of my head against the seat. “They asked me about Freya and Zane. More specifics about what went on immediately before they were killed.” I reach a shaking hand up to tuck some hair behind my ear. “I wasn’t sure how much to say, but… I didn’t hold back.”
“What the fuck? What didn’t you tell me when I showed up?”
Slowly, I face Royal and his building impatience. “You were upset enough already, coming upon us after Savannah and Ireland had dumped my drink.”
Beckham peeks around the side of the seat at me before glancing back at Royal, who is now sitting forward, staring intensely at me. He puts a hand on Royal’s shoulder, as if he thinks Royal’s going to crawl over the center console to get to me. “Let’s let her explain, man.”
“I didn’t like the way that dickhead had his eyeballs all over her.” He maintains his focus on me. “Echo. What don’t we know?”
I wince at the firmness of his tone and close my eyes rather than see the disappointment that I’ve kept something from him. I can tell myself I hadn’t meant to hide Zane’s behavior from him, but I’d be lying.
From the driver’s seat, Wilder grumbles, “Knew we shouldn’t have left her alone.” The rising temper in his voice is noticeable and sends a shiver through me. “I’m not mad at you, Legacy, I just—” He slams a palm into the steering wheel and shakes his head, unable to finish his thought.
From behind me, there’s a frustrated groan. “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten as wasted as I did.” The guilt in Beckham’s words and tone tugs at my heart.
I lean around the seat to peer at him, catching his bright-blue gaze. His jaw is rigid, and I can totally tell his teeth are grinding behind his tightly clamped lips. “No, Beckham. You’re allowed to have a bad night.” The anguish in his eyes slices into my heart and makes me ache. I don’t like it when he’s hard on himself.
Nibbling on my lip, I send myself back to the day he came clean to me about his peculiar watching habits. I swear I felt how he was mentally flogging himself for it, and this is no different. Hell, I bet he’d actually have beaten himself for it if he thought it were possible. I definitely don’t want him falling into some sort of spiral because of how he chose to deal with those pornographic images showing up all over our entryway.
To my surprise, Royal reaches over, placing his hand on Beckham’s shoulder. “She’s right. There was so much more at play that night, and we had no idea what was coming at us or how things would go down.”
Wilder nods in agreement. “I don’t blame you either, Beck.” His gaze slides to mine. “That doesn’t mean we don’t want—no, need—to hear the rest of what happened with that guy.”
“I’m sorry he’s dead, but I didn’t for a second like the way he was looking at her.” Royal clears his throat. “What the fuck happened before I got there, baby?”
I draw in an unsteady breath. “I—” My focus catches on where we are. We’re still a good minute or two out from my house. My teeth clench so hard it hurts my jaw. “Shit,” I murmur under my breath. “I bumped into him. He knew who I was. It started off uncomfortable because he said something about how he recognized me from Freya’s description. And he was kinda leering… and handsy.” I draw in an agonized breath. “Once Freya joined us, I thought it’d be over, but he kept after me.”
“That motherfucker,” Royal bites out, his eyes ablaze with fury. “You should have fuckin’ said something right then.”
I let go of Wilder’s hand, only to throw mine up in the air, feeling frustrated. “But I didn’t want to.”
“Why?” Royal’s brow hikes up in question.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, then let out an exasperated breath. “Because I was worried about you, you jerk, and what might happen if a brawl broke out with that big asshole.”
“The fuck, Echo. Seriously.”
“Okay.” Wilder grinds out as he turns into my driveway. “She told you what happened, the guy is dead.”
Ever the peacekeeper, Beckham nods. “Yep. I think we have to cross our fingers and move on. The police know about it. There’s nothing more for us to do.” He gestures to the house. “Kara won’t mind having us here another night at the Madden Hotel, will she?”
I shake my head. “I texted her from the police department the minute they told me. She doesn’t seem to have any issue—more hands to help with Chase and all… and I think she’s a little relieved to have a bunch of us here in case something else goes sideways.” I find Royal’s eyes. “This morning, she said she thought it was good for Chase to have you around.”
His brow raises for a split second, and suddenly the air is thick with something that I can’t quite put my finger on. “I want to be around for him. I hope I made that clear.”
“You did. Actually, all of you are good for him. He needs male role models, you know?”
“What about Davis?” Beckham cautiously asks.
I shrug. “He’s not one of those guys who is good with kids.” Royal grumbles something under his breath. Wincing because I can imagine what he said, I finish my thought. “Yeah, I kinda figured it had something to do with him being yours.”
“Whatever. I’m here now. We all are. Tough shit if Davis doesn’t like it.”
Beckham laughs. “And we happen to like the little nugget, so I think he’s stuck with us.”
The other two guys murmur their agreement, and I can’t help but feel a warmth flow through me at their acceptance. A moment passes in silence while the four of us absorb everything that’s been said so far.
“Whaddaya say we get inside?” Wilder glances into the back of the cab where his gym bag sits between the two guys. “It’s a good fucking thing I had my gear in the truck because it would have been hell getting replacement equipment on short notice for my fight.”
I perk right up at that as I pop my door open and climb out. “I forgot about fight night.”
Wilder’s eyes meet mine as I come around the front of the truck to join him. “Will you come? I mean, I know the last time was quite an experience.” He grimaces as Royal shrugs, a smirk twitching his lips as he grabs Wilder’s bag from the seat and chucks it at him.
“Do you want me to be there?” I work the corner of my lip between my teeth.
“Yes.” Wilder’s answer is quick and decisive.
I grin. “Okay, then I’ll be there. Do you know who you’re fighting yet?”
Beckham laughs. “Oh, it’s Bear again. The big fight is almost always Bear taking on some poor sucker who’s bound to get his face pounded in.”
Royal simply rolls his eyes. “I did well in my fight. He’s just really fucking good.”
Wilder shoves Beckham as we walk up to the house. “And I’m not some poor sucker. I’m actually excited to finally have a fucking shot at taking him down.”
The front door pops open and Kara steps out. “Hey.” She searches my eyes first, and I nod. I’m fine. “I’m a little scared to ask, but how’d it go?” I step into her embrace and hug her tightly without speaking. “That good, huh?” she mumbles, patting my back. “Let’s get you all inside. Chase is napping.”
Beckham salutes her as he passes. “Yes, ma’am. Quiet voices and all that shit. Got it.”
We pile onto the couches and chairs in the den. I end up tucked between Wilder and Royal on a love seat while Beckham lounges sideways on the armchair across from us. I don’t know about the guys, but the exhaustion from dealing with everything is hitting me hard. I should probably take a nap myself.
Kara eyes each of us as she perches on the arm of one of the empty chairs. “So, you have to wait for permission to go back to the houses?”
I lift both hands in a classic I-don’t-know gesture. “I imagine they’ll be all over both SIN and TZE. The scene has to be cleared—and to be fair, it’s huge. It happened during a party, you know? And obviously since the one victim lives right next door, they wanted to go look over there, too.”
Beckham nods. “Right. Not technically the crime scene, but related. They have to be certain they have whatever evidence they need before allowing us to enter again. Because once we go back, everything is kinda contaminated. Even then… I don’t think I’ll go back into my bedroom at all. The thought of it makes me ill.” He lets out a disturbed sigh. “On one hand, people die everywhere. There’s probably not a square inch on earth where someone hasn’t passed to the hereafter. But this is different. It was murder. And even though I’m studying this fucking shit, I never expected to see something like that in person. In my own room, you know?”
“Understandable.” Royal shakes his head, eyeing him.
Kara visibly shudders. “I can’t imagine. I’m sorry.”
“We’ll be okay. All of us.” Wilder’s body has gone tense beside me, and I gently put a hand on his thigh. He covers it with his hand. “They’ll probably have your room taped off so no one goes in. Sorry, Beck.”
He shrugs. “No big deal. I guess it’s time to start thinking about what I need to replace.”
We’re all off in our heads for several beats when I hear Chase’s awkward steps coming down the stairs. I’m about to get up when Royal pats my leg. “No, sit. I’ve got him.”
The squeal that comes out of Chase when Royal comes around the corner is something I won’t soon forget. “Woyal!”
Royal lets out a soft grunt. “Whoa, there. I’ve got you, but maybe next time warn a guy when you’re going to jump.”
I slap a hand over my mouth and am still laughing behind it when Royal reappears with Chase in his arms. Dying. The sight of the two of them together has my heart stuttering and jumping around in a new, chaotic rhythm. “Chase,” I admonish gently, “did you play Superman again?”
He nods, grinning his toothy toddler smile. “I fly.”
Wilder rubs a hand over the back of his head. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs under his breath before huffing out a laugh. “That’s my kinda kid,” he says more loudly.
Kara gets my attention with a jut of her chin. “Were you still going to the P-A-R-K with him? Get rid of some of that energy?”
“Yeah, if he wants to.” I aim an excited face at my son. “You wanna go run around at the park?”
“Yeah!” He practically leaps in Royal’s arms. It has my heart tugging in my chest the way he handles our son with a smile, then spins around with him. Oh, god. My insides flutter around. Royal is exhibiting typical dad behavior, winding the kid up when he’s already acting crazy.
“Who do you want to come to the park with you?” Royal wriggles his brows at his son.
“Woyal!”
“And?”
“Mama!”
I tilt my head to the side as I get up, joining the pair of them. I lightly tickle Chase’s sides, making him squirm. “Anyone else?”
He gives a shy grin and ducks his head against Royal’s chest. “Becky?”
Wilder snorts at the appalled look on Beckham’s face but hides his amusement when Chase wriggles around to look at him, pointing a finger. “And Widah.”
Wilder winks at me, then grins at my child, making a funny face, and lifts both hands in the air. “Yes! I can’t wait to swing on the monkey bars!”
Chase’s head swivels to mine. “I wanna swing da monkey baws, too, Mama.”
A smile creeps onto my face as I melt inside all over again. Don’t cry. No. Don’t. I draw in a shuddering breath. “I think you might finally have some friends tall enough to help you do that, baby.”