He waited for her to stop at the edge of the paved road and leaned over to kiss her. He kept it soft and sweet and reassuring. “We’re okay.”
A sigh that he felt more than heard. “It’s not over yet, is it?”
“No.” He sat back. “Drop me at Kingdom Corp. My aunt and I are past due for a conversation.”
Samara looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “It’s funny—the way you just said that made it sound like I’d drop you at the door and mosey my way on to safety while you battle that dragon alone.” She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Not a chance, Beckett. You’re barely standing on your own right now, though you get points for bravado. If you need to talk to her without witnesses, then I’ll respect that, but I will be right outside that room and ready to ride to your rescue again.”
“I just saved myself, woman.”
“Was that what happened?” Her breathy laugh was more nerves than humor. “It sure as hell seemed like you let a man drive you out into the middle of nowhere with every intent of murdering you.”
He touched his phone, the reassuring weight a steady reminder that at least it hadn’t been for nothing. “He killed my father. Maybe not directly, but he was the tool Lydia used to ensure Nathaniel got behind the wheel that night. Walter’s also behind everything from the will changing to destroying my apartment.”
“Shit,” she breathed. Samara took one hand off the wheel and reached over to lace her fingers with his. “What happens now?”
He’d spent enough time thinking about it while Walter drove. “I sent him away. If we went to court, he might go down, but ultimately my father was the one driving. Both the arson and the breaking and entering were admitted to verbally, but as yet there’s no evidence to tie him to it. Going to the police isn’t an option.” When she didn’t argue, he laid it all out there—the exile, the timeline. Everything.
Samara nodded when he finished. “He’s going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder as a paranoid mess.”
“Good.”
“Exactly what he deserves.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, Beckett.”
He brought their clasped hands up and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for riding to my rescue.” He grinned, mostly to reassure her. “This will make for one hell of a story to tell the grandkids one day.”
She arched her brows. “Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”
He settled back in his seat. “You’re right.”
“I know.”
“We’ll talk after I deal with Lydia.”
This time, her laugh was almost normal. “God, you’re out of control.”
She was right that it was too soon to talk about things like that, but he didn’t want to think too hard about what came next until they were there. He wanted this quiet moment with Samara, separated from the rest of the world by the confines of the car. “Did you get my note?”
“The one about dinner tonight?”
“Yeah.” A headache bloomed into being right between his eyes. Probably the aftereffects of the drug. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help in the least. “I’m sorry we fought this morning. I still think you made a choice out of pride, but I did, too.”
“You were right. About Lydia. I didn’t believe you until it was almost too late, and even then I almost made the wrong choice.”
That roused him. Beckett opened his eyes. “What choice?”
“She fired me.” Samara didn’t take her attention away from the road. She sighed. “Sorry. You’re trying to distract us both from what’s coming next, and I’m just determined to throw us back into it, aren’t I?”
They hit the city limits and their progress slowed along with traffic. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it only made his headache worse. “It’s almost over.”
“We just have to survive it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Samara purposefully parked the car several blocks from the Kingdom Corp building. She recognized the look in Beckett’s dark eyes—if he had a chance, he’d try to keep her out of this the same way Frank had commanded her to sit in the car. She’d listened to Frank because that situation was clearly beyond her skill set. This wasn’t.
She shut off the car and turned to him. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
She watched him closely as he climbed to his feet, but all evidence that he hadn’t been at full health an hour ago was gone. He didn’t shake or lean, and his pupils were normal. Beckett caught her looking and gave a grim smile. “Do I pass inspection?”
She wanted to say no. To tell him that he definitely needed a shower and a change of clothes and to take a vacation that would get him the hell out of Houston for a while. Samara didn’t say any of it. Every distraction she could offer was just that—a distraction. A Band-Aid on a problem that wasn’t going to go away without a direct confrontation. Even then, she didn’t see how he could combat Lydia’s entrenched position.
“Samara.” Beckett crossed to her in two large steps and pulled her into his arms. “I have it under control. I promise.”
He’d said something to that effect before and ended up drugged and almost murdered. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest. This was it. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. “Let’s do this.”
He took her hand, maintaining contact as they turned and started for Kingdom Corp. Samara thought she was ready to face down Lydia, to see justice. But her emotions tangled through her in an indecipherable mess. Rage and sorrow and something akin to hope. She trusted Beckett. She trusted his plan. There was no other option.
What happens if we fail?
She didn’t know, and that scared her most of all.
Security met them at the door. Samara guided Beckett to a stop and lifted her chin. “Max. Jacob. Nice seeing you.”
The guards exchanged a look. Max cleared his throat.
