“You wouldn’t dare!”
He leaned back to let the man meet his gaze, to let him see the truth there. Walter’s curses sputtered out and he went silent. Beckett waited a few seconds longer. “Try me. You have six hours to get out of town.”
Walter wet his lips. “Where will I go? I don’t have my money yet.”
“I doubt you’re getting it.” The thought brought him a vicious sense of satisfaction. While he could kill Walter right now, that would put him on the same level as this piece of scum, and he’d potentially have to deal with the fallout as well. Simpler—more justified—to exile him.
But if Walter did decide to test him, he would find out the hard way that Beckett didn’t bluff.
“Six hours.”
The driver’s door opened, revealing Frank. The man looked from Walter to Beckett and back again. “You got it covered.”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
Frank leveled a shotgun at Walter’s face. “If I were you, I’d pass that gun right over here nice and easy.”
Walter shook and Beckett glared. “If he pisses himself while I’m stuck here, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Noted.” Frank took the gun and tossed it into the water behind him. “I don’t suppose we’re killing him and leaving him to rot the same way he planned for you.”
“Pesky thing about murder, Frank, is there’s no statute of limitations. Some part of him surfaces ten years down the road and we’re fucked. Besides, I like the idea of this cockroach scuttling away from the light and spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and wondering when I’ll change my mind about letting him live.”
“When?” Walter squeaked. “You said you were letting me go.”
“Yes, Walter. I did say that.” He shook his arm out, the tingling slowly fading. “But you killed my father and tried to take my family home from me, in addition to a whole host of sins. That kind of thing pisses a man off. You understand.”
“But—”
“May come a day where I change my mind and hunt you down. You’ll never see me coming. There will be the hint of being watched, the feeling where you might not be quite alone, and then you’ll take your last breath and know that I’m the reason why.”
Without another word, he shoved off the man and climbed out his own door. He had to lean against the side of the Corvette. Fuck. This wasn’t over—it was a long shot from over—and he needed to keep moving before Walter managed to make it back to a phone and call to warn Lydia.
She wouldn’t flee. It was against her nature.
Which meant he had to make his move now as opposed to later, when she had time to plan and try to counter it. Catching her flat-footed was his only chance.
He yanked his phone out of his pocket and nearly fumbled it to the ground. Slow down. Walter isn’t going anywhere, but you toss that fucking phone in the water and this is all for nothing. He thumbed off the recording, paused to make sure it was saved, and started for the Audi.
Which was right around the time he realized the damn car only had two seats.
Frank appeared at his elbow, the shotgun casually held against his hip as if he walked around with the damn thing during every waking moment. “Have Samara drive you back. My people will be here shortly and get me back to town.”
His people.
Beckett paused. “I want him alive, Frank. There’s enough blood to go around in this situation already. He was a pawn.”
“Noted.”
That wasn’t a damn answer. Beckett opened his mouth to demand a promise to let Walter walk out of this situation alive, but Samara opened the driver’s door and popped her head out. “Beckett, let’s go.”
Her window was down. She’d heard everything. He expected her to come down on his side of this, but there was a hard line to her lips he’d never seen before. He turned and frowned at Frank. “I mean it.”
“I’m not going to murder him.” Frank sighed and shook his head. “But I am going to drive that erectile dysfunction commercial on four wheels into the nearest compound and see it compressed into a tiny cube.”
Beckett raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about Corvettes.”
“It’s not Corvettes, Beck. It’s the type of people who drive them.” Frank’s expression stayed serious. “I’m glad you’re good.”
“Day’s not over yet.”
“Heading to Kingdom Corp?”
“Yep.” He glanced back at the Corvette, but Walter hadn’t moved. “Call me when you’re back.”
“Will do.”
It took every ounce of willpower to keep his walk to the passenger side of the Audi relatively normal. He sank into the bucket seat and exhaled. “Hey.”
“Hey. That’s all you have to say to me?” Samara slammed the door and gunned the engine, backing up so fast Frank had to move quickly to avoid spraying gravel. “I thought you were going to be hurt, Beckett. I thought you could die.” She kept her arm over the back of his seat, her narrowed eyes on the window as she expertly drove the Audi backward along the narrow road. “I realized Lydia called the meeting to ensure I wasn’t with you when you met with Walter and it scared the shit out of me, and then we show up in time to see you slumped over and maybe unconscious and…”
He put his hand over her knee. “I’m okay, Samara. You’re okay.”
“Not through lack of trying,” she snapped. They whipped around a curve and she used the minuscule shoulder on the road to turn around so they were driving the correct way. Only then did she exhale slowly. “Damn it, Beckett. I love you. I thought our last words might have been a fight and that I just found you only to
