Chapter 13

Becker

From the balcony where I’m sitting, I switch the screen to video and take a sip of coffee as I wait for the head of division in PNG, Silkani to answer.

After a bit of confusion about how to get the video to work, the screen fills with a close-up of a grinning bearded face.

Behind him is the Global Hope logo, and a map of Papua New Guinea. “Morningtaim, Mr. Becker! My wife show me how to see you,” he says.

“Morningtaim, how’s everything going?”

He waggles his hand. “I got your report about Hinton Church girl. Now my day is nogut.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, sorry. Things did go bad. I have a few more applicants to check out, I should have one for you by the end of the week.”

His brows drag together and he leans closer to the screen. “I got email from your mother. She worry about you. You call her.”

“I will. As soon as I’m done here in Hinton.”

He shakes his head. “That what you say last time you go home. She nag me, I nag you.”

“Don’t worry. She’s coming to see me. And I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy.”

His grin seems to grow even wider. “You find more than candidate Mr. Becker? You find good Christian woman?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I found a namaba wan Christian woman,” I say.

He nods enthusiastically. “I tell Mrs. Silkani you bring her back.”

“She’s not an aid worker.”

But he’s not listening to me, he’s already making plans that involve me coming back.

I raise my hand and wave it in front of the screen to get his attention. “We talked about this, remember? I’m being rotated out of PNG. Someone else from Global Hope is arriving in the next few days. That’s why I’m calling you.”

Silkani bushy eyebrows draw together. “I no worry. We a part of your family now. You be back.”

I chuckle because it’s true. “You can count on it,” I say with a smile.

***

Cynthia

My final check in my hand, I steel myself for scorn and push the door to the bank open.

Just as I expected, the second I’m spotted, as if I’m a known bank robber, there’s noticeable tension in the tiny bank.

I stiffen my spine and make sure I look more confident than I feel as I step up to the teller.

I recognize her as one of the more prominent members of the congregation, and the obvious disdain on her pinched face makes what I have to say even harder.

“I’d like to cash this and close my account.”

She doesn’t even bother with pleasantries, just nods, and rips the check from my fingers. “Account number?”

I rattle it off, and she taps her keyboard furiously as though punishing them in my stead.

I clench my fists at my side as none of the other tellers will meet my eye and look decidedly pleased they aren’t the ones dealing with me.

After an extremely uncomfortable wait, I leave the bank with a tiny amount of cash, and I hope my dignity intact.

The second I step outside, I release a breath and decide I’ve subjected myself to enough for one morning.

Rather than go to the grocery store like I’d planned, I pivot and head back to my car, so I can plan my escape in earnest.

I make it halfway to my Nissan when I see the stern-faced Mrs. Parsons, the woman I stole gum from over fifteen years ago blocking my path.

I back up, thinking I can go around her but she shifts and near spits the words at me. “You should be ashamed of yourself, letting your father take the blame for your wrongdoing.”

My mouth drops open, but she’s not done. “Your parents should have washed their hands of you years ago. But now it’s too late, you’ve destroyed your father’s reputation. I hope you’re satisfied!”

She doesn’t leave me room to reply, just pushes past me, and stomps down the street.

If it weren’t for the people who have stopped in the street, and are eyeing me like I’m a piece of excrement, maybe I’d have been able to brush it off.

But it doesn’t take a genius to see consensus in the faces of my father’s faithful flock.

They think it’s my fault. Even though my father has confessed, they are still blaming me and probably always will.

I drag my keys out of my pocket and hope I don’t have any more runs in before I get home.

My hope is shattered when I hear a shout coming from behind me. “Hey! Cynthia! Wait up!”

Bracing myself for another onslaught, I turn and am only partially relieved to see Britt, Becker’s sister hurrying towards me.

She smiles widely. “Hey! Sorry to shout at you. Not often I run into someone I actually want to talk to. I may have gotten a little over-enthused.”

Her friendliness is such a welcome relief from the hostility of everyone else, I relax a little.

“That’s okay. What did you want to talk to me about?”

She gestures to the seat outside the bank. “Can you sit? Just for a sec?”

Since I’m curious as to what she wants I nod, and take a seat. “I ran into Lacey yesterday and I saw the paper this morning. I’m so sorry.”

I try for a smile but can’t seem to find one. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered this town isn’t the healthiest place for you to be?”

I release a sigh. “You sound like Becker.”

She pulls a face. “Well, occasionally he makes sense. Not often, but occasionally.”

Somehow, I manage a laugh. “This doesn’t seem like the best place for you either. Why come to Hinton?”

She gestures to the old courthouse. “Becker and I used to come on vacation not far from here. An old friend told my mom there was a warehouse going cheap.”

“And you asked Becker to come?”

A wry smile plucks at her lips. “He kind of made the decision for me. He bought the warehouse and told me he’d renovate it for me while he did the background check on your sister.”

At the mention of why Becker was here, I grimace. Britt pats my knee. “Don’t be too pissy with Becker. He’s the reason it’s not you splattered over the front page.”

“My head knows that, but—”

She tilts her head and interrupts me. “Your heart wants someone to blame?”

I look at the entrance to the bank and think of how no one wants to accept the truth. “It’s human nature, isn’t it? To want good men to prosper and evil ones to be punished.”

She scoffs. “I don’t buy into all that shit. I’ve seen good men do unspeakable things, and I’ve seen bad men do amazing things.”

My mouth twists. “Like Becker?”

She nods. “Oh yeah, and he is bad in a lot of ways. He’s a flirt, and he’s over-confident, but underneath it all, he’s just the same sweet kid who used to get in trouble for standing up to bullies.”

I arch an eyebrow. “He did?”

She nods. “All the damn time. And it only got worse as he got older. But that’s Becker, he’ll jump in and save someone else from getting hurt with no thought for his own safety. So, when you think about it, with the job he does, and the way he’s dedicated his life to protecting others, he’s more Godly than anyone else around here.”

The description of Becker drives a shard of ice into my chest and adds even more confusion to my already fogged thoughts.

Before I can ask her to tell me more about Becker’s work she glances at her watch and mutters. “Damn it, sorry. I need to go. But I’d love to see you again.”

I open my mouth to say I don’t see how that can happen when she walks away from me.

As I’m pondering what she’s said about Becker and wondering if I’ve misjudged him, she calls over her shoulder, “Come by the studio. Put my little brother out of his misery,” she says.

Cynthia

Three days later…

I’m sitting cross-legged, and surrounded by boxes, the mid-morning sunlight streaming into my living room with an old album on the floor.

Lacey peers at the picture. “I can’t believe your mom had an affair. Do you know who it was?”

I put my coffee to one side and scan the faces in a picture. “No idea. I can’t exactly ask dad. And there were so many people coming and going, it could have been anyone.”

Lacey closes the album and pushes it to one side. “Where are you going to go?”

I take a sip of my coffee before shrugging. “Probably back to art school. I never got to finish my degree.”

A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Or you could go maybe back to Britt’s art class?”

I roll my eyes at her persistence. “Definitely not.”

Lacey stretches her legs out and nudges my knee with her foot. “You have to talk to him sometime.”

“I’m not ready to talk to him.”

Lacey’s face scrunches up. “You can’t blame him for this though? As far as I can tell, he’s the reason you aren’t in jail.”

I frown at her and wish she’d stop nagging me to call Becker back.

After three days of constant harassment from journalists, I just want some peace and quiet.

“It’s complicated. I’m still not sure how he was even involved.”

She looks at the floor as a little heat tracks over her cheeks. “I could ask Britt, you know if you want?”

I can’t resist a snicker. “Are you going to ask her out?”

Her head snaps up. “What? No?”

She looks so embarrassed, I quit teasing her. “You should.”

At the knock at the door, we both freeze putting an end to a discussion Lacey isn’t ready for. “Want me to get it in case it’s that reporter again?” Lacey says.

I give her a relieved smile. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can deal with more questions right now.”

Especially when what I really need are answers.

Lacey springs to her feet but before she gets to the door, a masculine voice calls out.

“You can’t ignore me forever, darlin. Why not get it over with so I don’t make a scene in front of your neighbors.”

A smile twitches at Lacey’s lips and before I can stop her, she grabs her purse and has her hand on the doorknob.

“Do not let him in,” I hiss.

She just grins. “You want answers, now’s your chance to get some. Call me when you’re done.”

I pick up a ball of bubble wrap and send it flying but miss her when she slips out the door. “Go see Britt, you coward!” I yell at her.

At the sight of Becker, dressed in a leather jacket, boots, and jeans, my heart stutters in my chest. “Britt?” he says.

I swallow hard and try not to look as flustered as I feel by his arrival. “Lacey has a crush on your sister. But she’s too shy to do anything about it.”

A flickering of amusement appears as he closes the door and leans against the wall. “How are you?”

“My father used my bank account to steal money from the church he’s dedicated his entire life to. How do you think I am?”

He pushes off the wall. “I think you’re pissed. I’m just trying to figure out if it’s at me, or your dad.”

I huff out an exasperated breath. “What are you doing here?”

“You haven’t answered my calls. This was a last-ditch attempt to see you before I leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

He pointedly looks at the boxes. “Looks like you are too.”

I shrug and close the family album.

“I have zero reasons to stay here. Everything he told me was a lie. My mother wasn’t the person I thought she was, and my father is the very thing he says he hates the most.”

He bobs his head. “Have you spoken to him?”

I pick up the album and can’t decide whether to toss it in the trash or leave it here for Trudy. “What’s the point? He literally threw me under the bus to save himself.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think he would have let that happen.”

In my annoyance, I get to my feet and throw the album on the sofa. “But you don’t know for sure. No one can.”

His answer makes my irritation increase incrementally. “Maybe not. But you should know his sentence is probably going to be reduced. He’ll go to jail and he’ll never be a pastor again. His life is over. Maybe you should see him before he goes away?”

I swallow hard. “I don’t want to talk to or about him. And I’m not sure I want to talk to you either. You’ll probably just lie to me anyway.”

Becker perches on the edge of the sofa. “Try me.”

I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him. “Alright then. Why did my father hire you if he was stealing?”

He keeps his eyes locked on mine. “He didn’t hire me. I was assigned to oversee Trudy’s application. Letting people think I was working for him was easier than telling the entire truth.”

“Which is?”

Becker’s eyes narrow. “First up, you should know, background checking potential candidates isn’t part of my usual job.”

He looks so serious, I’m sure he’s just messing around. “So what is?”

“Working undercover for the Anti-trafficking unit.”

I did not expect that. “Then why are you in Hinton?”

He grins. “Partially because Britt needed help, and partially because the CEO Judge Renholm asked me to oversee things in his district.”

“I don’t understand, why ask for you to come?”

Becker smiles. “The judge is an old family friend. We used to come stay in his cabin with mom when we were kids. He’s also the reason I left the SFPD and agreed to work for him.”

I have to work to keep my surprise from showing.

He was a cop. No wonder he saw through me so quickly.

Rather than let him off the hook so quickly, I lift my chin a fraction and issue him with a challenge. “Everyone thought I was guilty. Why didn’t you?”

Becker shrugs lightly. “I trusted my instincts.”

I scoff as I think about everything I’ve been through in the past few days. “Your instincts? And what did your instincts tell you about my father?”

His answer comes easy. “He never thought you’d come home, so he didn’t think you’d ever be implicated.”

I scowl at him. “That’s what he said. But I don’t see it that way at all. And why are you being so diplomatic?”

He nods. “I’m being diplomatic because the evidence doesn’t show he was trying to harm you. It shows he was trying to protect you. Even if it wasn’t rational or smart.”

“By breaking into my apartment and tracking me?”

He gets to his feet and gives me a look I’m not ready to deal with. “I guess I should just be pleased you’re speaking to me. I wasn’t sure you would.”

I back up a step “Is that why you came here? To seduce me again before you leave?”

“No. I came here because I owed you an explanation.”

I turn my back on him and pick up the tape. “Well, I have it. So, thanks.”

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

I look down at the box filled with old clothes and resume taping it up. “I can make it really easy on you. I’m leaving, you’re leaving, that’s nice and easy.”

“What if I don’t want it easy? What if I want it messy, and complicated?”

I turn slightly and frown at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about right now, but if this is what I think it is, I’m not the girl you’re looking for.”

He grabs my wrist and tugs me into him. “No, you’re not. But you are the woman I’ve been looking for.”

He kisses me. Hard.

I move to slap him, but he grabs my wrist before I can stop him. “Just so you know, I declined Trudy’s application.”

That stops me short. “What? Why?”

He releases my wrist. “She wouldn’t make it through orientation. Not only that, she’s also a self-righteous bitch with no empathy who treats the woman I’m in love with like shit. Not exactly the kind of person I want to work with.”

I’m so surprised, I just gape at him. “What did you say?”

His eyebrow hitches. “Which part?”

I snort inelegantly thinking he’s joking. “All of it.”

He nods and pulls a face. “Okay. I’ll say the important parts again. Slowly. So you don’t miss anything.”

His lip curls in a suggestive smile. “Your. Sister. Isn’t. The. Saint. You. Think. She. Is. And. I. Am. Crazy. About. You.”

I narrow my eyes and issue him with a challenge. “I don’t believe you.”

He smirks. “That’s okay. I’ll convince you.”

“You’re pretty cocky, you know that?”

A lazy grin appears. “Eh, you’ll get used to it.”

When he wraps his arms around me, my body seems to ignore my need to punish him. “Damn it, Becker, what do you want from me?”

“I want the real you,” he says.

He kisses me softly, and all I can think about is how he believed me when no one else did.

He also saw through me and made me feel more like myself than I ever did in the company of my family.

I’m hurt. Confused, and angry.

But right now, I don’t care. None of it matters.

I’m leaving.

And the very people who told me I wasn’t good enough are the ones who were hiding the most.

“Okay, fine, you want real, I’ll give you real, but—”

He doesn’t let me finish my sentence, just kisses me with enough conviction to assure me he’s being truthful.

His tongue slides inside my mouth and his hands drift to my ass. He walks me backward until I realize he’s heading into my bedroom.

I don’t even care it’s the middle of the day, or that my nosy neighbors know he’s visiting, all I care about is stripping him naked and doing what I’ve been trying not to think about since I left his apartment.

He kicks off his boots and lets me tug his jacket off his shoulders before we tumble onto my bed, clawing at each other, desperate to remove each other’s clothes.

When I’m stripped to my panties, he grins as he looks at my crotch. “You chose to wear the pair I bought you today? Must be fate.”

I pull a face. “It’s a coincidence. It just happens to be my laundry day,” I lie.

The smile doesn’t slip from his face as he traces a finger over the silk. Shivers run down my spine as he presses a kiss to the fabric. “Too bad I’m going to rip them off you again.”

Before I can protest, he tears the fabric and tosses the fabric over his shoulder.

I start to laugh but suck in a breath as he spreads my legs, and his tongue plunges into me.

I twist my fingers into his hair and watch as his tongue explores me until I’m starting to moan so loud I know my neighbors will hear.

Ripples of pleasure start to resound through me until I’m writhing on the pain and experiencing an orgasm so strong I’m sure I must have reached a whole new level of bliss.

He takes a moment to kiss my clit, before sliding upward to kiss every inch of my fevered body.

By the time he reaches my breasts, my nipples are hard, and I’m in a frenzy of lust so strong I can’t think about anything but him.

I crush my mouth against his and near inhale him as I grip his head. He lies beside me, his finger sliding inside my pussy. “I love getting you wet,” he murmurs.

I groan as he slips his finger in and out while his tongue is tangled with mine.

He breaks the kiss long enough to press a kiss to my nipple before his tongue flicks over it.

With his finger inside me and his tongue on my nipple, I slide my hand down and start to stroke his shaft.

He’s so coated in jizz, my fingers slip off his tip, making him groan almost as loud as I am.

I’m almost ready to climb on top of him, but he has other ideas. He positions himself behind me and pulls me back so my back is against his chest.

His hands travel over my breasts, and I instinctively turn my head so I can kiss him.

With his tongue in my mouth, and his hands caressing my breasts, I start to whimper with need.

He grabs my hand and pushes it towards my bush. I’m so delirious with lust, I just slide my finger between my legs.

I throw my head back and rub myself until an explosive orgasm has me screaming his name.

With a growl, I turn over and grab him roughly so I can pull him on top of me. He obliges but doesn’t enter me, just lies on top of me, as I grow increasingly desperate for him to fill me.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” I pant.

He kisses me again, his mouth hot against mine as his cock slides inside me.

His cock feels so good that my entire body seems to burst into flames. He pounds me faster and faster bringing wave after wave of climaxes until I’m not sure I can take any more.

Just when I think he’s going to last another hour, he starts to pump a little harder and his face is contorting in pleasure.

He comes even louder than I did, leaving no room for doubt of what he came here for.

He pulls out and flops on his back, breathing hard, as he looks at me. “I owe you more panties.”

I laugh and look down at my naked body. “It’s becoming a bad habit.”

He gives me a lazy smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s a bad habit. And I like buying you underwear.”

I smile and wish I could enjoy the afterglow a little more.

“But what happens after you buy me panties and rip them off?”

His eyebrow lifts. “I buy some more?”

I swat his shoulder. “Am I just supposed to forget all this stuff with my dad happened and try to live happily ever after?”

A wistful smile appears. “I can do happy ever after, but I think you’ll need to start living the life you’re meant to too in order for that to happen.”

“I’m not sure what I’m meant to be doing,” I say.

He trails his finger down my hip. “I do. Work with me.”

I scrunch up my face. “Charity work was Trudy’s thing. Not mine.”

He lifts his hand in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “Sure about that? We could use an art teacher in Korea.”

My forehead crinkles. “I’m not qualified to teach and I don’t speak Korean.”

He just shrugs. “Britt wasn’t a teacher till she spent a year in Thailand with me.”

When I don’t say anything, he turns on his side. “We’re talking about working with people who need a second chance. People who have been ostracized and abandoned by their families. You really think someone like Trudy can help?”

I don’t need to think about that. I know she wouldn’t. She’d never be able to relate to them, not the way I can.

If I was ever looking for direction, this seems like a neon sign pointing in one.

“Can I think about it?”

He nods. “Of course. Talk to Britt. Talk to my mom. Get them off my back, they both want to meet you.”

My eyes near pop out of my head. “You told your mom about me?”

He nods. “Yeah. She’ll be here in the morning. You up for meeting her?”

Warmth settles over my body. “I’d love to meet your mom. And I’d like to talk to Britt. I want to ask her how she convinced her brother to get naked,” I say.

He gives me a wicked grin. “Doesn’t matter. Getting my junk out that night was the best decision I ever made,” he says.

THE END

Coming soon!

Sneak Peek Bad Bodyguard

Working at the French Embassy was my dream job.

Up until three weeks ago when I got a new boss.

Anton’s continued flirting goes way beyond cultural differences.

He’s a handsy, arrogant, pig and his friendship with the Ambassador means he thinks he can do whatever he likes.

I’m stuck in an impossible position.

I can’t report him without ruining my career.

And diplomatic immunity means the police won’t touch him.

So, when my friend comes up with the crazy idea of hiring a bodyguard to dissuade Anton, I have no choice but to consider it.

Logan James is a former Marine, and a pro-boxer who offers close protection services.

And after meeting him, even if he's reluctant, I have no doubt he’s right for the job as my fake boyfriend.

But when Logan gets into a drunken brawl at an Embassy party, and is arrested, my picture-perfect fake engagement turns into a perfect nightmare…

Bad Bodyguard

Bad For Me #3

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Lexi Hart is the pen name of a crazy Kiwi romance junkie who prefers to live in the heads of her characters than her own.

If you want to escape reality with me and love fast burn romances with a splattering of suspense, The One Wild Weekend Series is sure to satisfy you.

For readers who enjoy a slower burn, and a whole lot more angst, I hope you’ll try my ongoing fake romance series, Bad For Me.

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