After we end the call, Karmen stands from the table, abandoning her uneaten breakfast.
“How far up do you think this goes?” she asks, standing by the sink, her arms folded across her chest. I know without looking she’s digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand.
I move to stand in front of her, rubbing her upper arms, urging her to relax. “I’m not sure, but whoever is involved, we’ll find out. My brother is relentless. He’s the most stubborn asshole of all of us. He won’t stop until he has all the answers.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Talk to me. What’s going through that head of yours?”
“I—I’m thinking about Gainey’s wife and his kids.” Her eyes glitter with unshed tears. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Cradling her face, I hold her gaze. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Do you want to know how I know?”
“How?”
I kiss her forehead, pulling her into my arms. “Because I’m kind of a badass, and my woman is too.”
The following morning, just as the sun starts to rise over the Potomac, we arrive at the address Reid gave us. It’s a nondescript building located on the outskirts of the city. There are no windows, just a door that swings open the moment we step out of the vehicle.
I immediately recognize both men from the photos I’ve seen of Benson’s family.
One is much older than the other, but no less handsome. Both men are about the same height, well over six feet, same as the man standing next to me, but where Benson’s hair is more of an espresso brown and cut short, Reid’s is a bit long and unkempt, tousled and sprinkled with sun-kissed highlights. His fading tan is undoubtedly due to his living near the beach. He’s wearing faded blue jeans and a gray T-shirt, the stock of his holstered gun peeking out from the inside of his black leather jacket.
The older man has a haircut like Benson’s, short and tidy, with the same dark, rich color. He wears blue jeans, a crisp white button-down, and a navy sports coat. These men couldn’t be more different in appearance. However, you can certainly tell they are related because they all share the same dark ocean-blue eyes.
When my gaze swings to Benson, his mouth is somewhereon the ground. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your ole man?” The older man asks in a gruff tone, immediately pulling his son in for a hug.
“I’m just a little shocked, Dad. I wasn’t expecting you.”
He slaps his back a couple of times, holding him tightly before saying, “I should have been here sooner.” The emotion in his voice has my chest aching. From what Benson has told me in the past, they’ve always been a close family; even though he and his siblings are scattered across the States, they keep in close contact, and they all visit their parents regularly.
“But what about Mom?” Benson asks as his father releases him.
“Your mother is fine. Reese is with her.”
Reese is Benson’s younger sister, Ryker’s twin. God, I can’t believe I remember that.
“But Dad,” he protests, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Don’t, son. It was hard enough to leave her as it was, but it was either I get my ass down here and check on you, or she was going to, and you know damn well I wasn’t going to let that happen. You know how stubborn she can be.”
He nods, a knowing smile tilting his lips. Benson once told me that his parents were fiercely protective of them all growing up. It seems being adults hasn’t changed that. I can see the love and admiration reflected in his eyes as he looks at his father.
When his dad’s focus lands on me, his smile grows. “This must be Karmen.”
I offer him a smile and my hand, but he engulfs me in what can only be described as a bear-hug. My arms hang limply at my sides. I’m not sure what to do with them or how to feel about the fact that this is the first time I’m meeting him and he’s hugging me.
“Dad, let her go. She’s not a hugger,” Benson scolds, quickly apologizing for his father.
“She is now,” he declares, squeezing me tighter. “Thank you for helping my boy.”
I awkwardly lift my arms and wrap them around his waist, hugging him back. My eyes burn as a swarm of emotions threatens to overtake me. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Please, call me Neil,” he insists, releasing me.
“Excuse my dad. He can be a bit emotional sometimes.” Reid grins, offering me his hand. “I’m Reid, by the way.”
