7. Beast Mode

7 BEAST MODE

Keaton

“Excuse me, Keaton,” Sammy interrupted one of the few breaks we’d had all morning.

For some unknown reason, Mayor Dipshit thought it would be a phenomenal idea to hold an impromptu press conference at the ass-crack of dawn to “raise public awareness about the serial killer terrorizing our town.” His words, not ours. Then, in an even greater show of stupidity, he gave out the phone number to our satellite office, encouraging said public to notify us immediately if they saw anything suspicious. The number of phone calls we’d fielded already from nosy neighbors ratting each other out was astonishing.

“There’s a call for you on line one,” she finished.

“Please tell me it’s not another whack job.”

“I can’t be certain, but they asked for you specifically.”

Raising my arms over my head, I stretched and twisted my back from side to side, releasing the knots which had begun to form from sitting in one place for hours at a time. Noah was across from me, tapping a pen against his desk, looking as frustrated as I felt, while Lanie and Koen were unlucky enough to be in the field, running down one false lead after another.

Picking up the receiver, I blew out a breath through my nose as I tried to garner a bit of patience for the person on the other end. It wasn’t their fault the only thing the mayor had succeeded in doing was scaring the fuck out of the locals.

“Special Agent Clarke.”

“I hear you’re looking for me, Calvin.” The use of my real name sent shards of ice down my spine. “Wait, that’s right. You go by Keaton now.”

Snapping my fingers to get Noah’s attention, I mouthed, “get me a location.” When his head shot up, he flew from his chair, seeing the urgency clearly written on my face, and ran to Nelson’s desk. I could hear the rapid pounding of fingers against the keyboard within seconds.

“I seem to be at a disadvantage. You obviously know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“And you won’t until I’m ready.”

His voice wasn’t familiar in the least. My best guess was he was using some sort of device to disguise it.

“Let’s cut the shit. What do you want?”

“Peace on earth?” He chuckled.

“You want to play games, asshole? Find someone else?” I slammed the receiver down in the cradle.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Noah yelled.

“He called me Calvin. No way will he let me have the last word.” I glanced at Nelson. “Did you get an address?”

“He’s bouncing the signal off cell towers all over the East Coast.” He shook his head. “But I can tell you the call originated from somewhere in Huntington.”

“Keaton,” Sammy called out. “He’s back on the line.”

“Stay cool,” Noah warned. “You’re in control. ”

I’d taken a huge risk by hanging up the phone when I did, but one thing I’d learned in my years in the FBI was sometimes risk led to the greatest rewards. At least that’s what I was telling myself, rather than the truth. I panicked.

“Special Agent Clarke,” I answered for the second time.

“That was very foolish, Calvin. It makes me think you aren’t taking me seriously. Maybe I should introduce myself to that gorgeous creature you were mauling in the parking lot last night.”

The line went dead and I saw red. I heard a thunk as the earpiece hit my desk, but everything else was hard to decipher over the roaring of blood in my ears.

Motherfucker!

“Keaton?” Noah approached my side.

“Got him,” Nelson’s shout pulled me back to reality. “He’s on the east side of town. Motel 6.”

Standing abruptly, I snagged the jacket from the back of my chair and raced out the front door of the FBI office, Noah right on my heels.

“Call Lanie and Koen. They’re closer to Henley than we are. Tell them to drop whatever they're doing and get to her fast.” The SUV door unlocked the second I touched it, thanks to the key fob in my pocket. Looking over the roof, I growled, “This motherfucker had eyes on us last night. They aren’t to let her out of their sight.”

We climbed inside and after a brief call in which Noah laid out my orders, he gripped the door handle when I made a left out of the parking lot, going in the opposite direction of where my heart desired.

“Where the hell are we going?”

“Hunting.”

“Even if we dusted every inch of this place, we’d never know for certain which prints belonged to our killer.” Duncan pinned me with his signature glare as I paced the hall outside.

Noah and I had arrived at the motel and tracked the cell signal to room nine twelve. Circumstances being what they were, I hadn’t waited for management to give us a key before I kicked the door in. It was empty except for a cheap burner lying in the middle of the bed and another message for me.

“Maybe not,” I spun, returning his scowl. “But at least we’d have somewhere to start.”

“Listen, kid. I know you’re pissed?—”

“I blew straight through pissed an hour ago, Duncan, when he threatened Henley.”

“Then put your anger to good use.” He took two steps forward, putting us almost nose to nose, then poked me in the chest with his finger. If it were anyone else, they’d have found themselves flat on their backs after a move like that, but not Duncan. He’d saved my ass more than once. “Think like the federal agent I trained you to be.”

I was struggling and he knew it; concern was etched clearly in his pale blue eyes. He may not have been there when the shit hit the fan, but he was there for the aftermath and everything since.

“What’s the deal with the anniversary card?” Noah disrupted our stare-down, coming to stand beside me.

The son of a bitch wanted my attention? Well, he had it and then some. First the room number, then the goddamn card. The twisted fuck was toying with me.

Nine fucking twelve.

September twelfth.

Also known as the day my life went straight to hell .

“September twelfth was the day I discovered my father was a serial killer.”

He whistled. “That’s fucked.”

“Pretty much sums it up.”

My phone dinged with a text. Digging it out of my pocket, I winced when I saw who it was. I’d been expecting her questions, the problem was I didn’t know how to answer them without scaring her.

Henley: What’s going on, Keaton? Why the sudden need for bodyguards? Did something happen with Chase?

Me: It’s not Chase, baby. I’ll explain everything when I get there, I swear. Just stay with Lanie and Koen in the house.

Henley: Okay. I trust you.

I wasn’t so sure she’d still be able to say that once I told her the truth, but for now, I’d take it.

“Maybe we’ve been coming at this the wrong way.”

“Talk it out, Noah,” Duncan instructed.

“We’re working off the assumption this guy is a copycat, right?” We both nodded. “Yet he’s got intimate knowledge of the case which was kept under wraps. How?”

“Maybe he was in the courtroom?” I offered.

“No. I think it’s more than that. I think he had a direct connection with your dad somehow, either before his arrest, or after.”

The three of us strode toward the elevator in silence, contemplating Noah’s theory. Honestly, it made the most sense, even though the implication our killer could be someone I’d met before made my head spin and my stomach churn. Jasper might know if my father was particularly close to anyone during that time, so he was next on my list to call. We’d also need to contact the prison. Hopefully they’d kept the visitor logs from back then.

We rode the elevator to the ground level, then made our way to the parking lot, where Duncan offered to drop off the evidence bags containing the phone and card to our forensics team. He put one long leg, then the other, inside his vehicle before glancing over at me.

“Hold tight to your girl, Keaton. Don’t let her slip through your fingers or you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, he shut the door and gunned the engine, leaving Noah and I standing there wondering what the hell had just happened.

“He needs to get laid,” Noah announced.

“You sound like Koen.”

“Speaking of, he sent me a text you’re gonna want to see.”

The smirk on his face should have alerted me, but when he handed over his cell, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. It wasn’t a message, rather a picture of Henley. She was in the middle of the living room in a fighting stance, squaring off against Lanie, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of hot pink biker shorts and a matching sports bra. My dick went rock-hard at the image.

“Let’s go,” I growled while my best friend—the bastard—laughed his ass off.

Henley

“Bend your knees a little more and spread your feet, shoulder width apart,” Lanie instructed.

It was one of the few days I had off from Over Easy and I wanted to spend it researching other online social work programs, however those plans were derailed quickly when I thought about having to explain my expulsion. Instead of dwelling on the past, I grabbed the latest Rebecca Yarros novel, a can of diet Dr. Pepper, and chose to fill my head with page after page of courageous women, sexy men, and their fire-breathing dragons.

I was lounging on the bean bag, gearing up for an especially exciting part of the book when Lanie and Koen burst through the door an hour ago. At first, I was terrified something had happened to Keaton. They tried to reassure me he was fine and they were only there as a precaution—whatever the hell that meant—but it took Keaton telling me via text he’d explain it all to me later before I was finally convinced.

“Like this?”

“Arch your back more. Ass out.”

I did as Koen said, immediately regretting it when a flash went off from his direction.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

A tennis shoe went sailing through the air, narrowly missing my head, before smacking into the chest of its intended target.

“Ow, Lanes,” he shoved to his feet. “What the actual fuck?”

“Keaton will do far worse than belt you with a sneaker when he finds out you snapped a photo of his girl, asswipe.”

“He already knows considering I just sent it to Noah, you lunatic.” He rubbed his chest. “I figured he could use some motivation to hurry the hell up.”

“Well, ask first next time, Koen. Jesus.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Have I taught you nothing? Now apologize so I can get back to teaching Henley how to be a badass.”

He flicked his eyes to me, muttering an apology before returning to his seat. The two of them were hysterical, acting more like brother and sister than federal agents tasked with babysitting their partner's girlfriend.

Lanie was in beast mode, putting me through the paces. She moved faster than a lightning bolt streaking across the sky, while I looked more like a newborn foal, wobbling on my new legs. It was difficult at first to keep up with the flurry of instructions she hurled my way, but after a while my brain began to process the mechanics, making it easier to follow her every move. When the front door opened thirty minutes later, we were both dripping with sweat, but I’d successfully escaped two different holds and semi-mastered a punch to the throat.

“You’re a natural,” she praised.

The high I was feeling from the intense workout took a sudden nosedive when Keaton stalked into the room. He had on a light-blue button-down shirt tucked into dark khaki pants without a wrinkle in sight. Unfortunately, I hadn’t known him long enough to be able to tell whether the scowl on his face was meant for me or one of the two people at my side. Instinctively, I inched backward the closer he got.

His features softened when he noticed the move, the lines between his eyebrows smoothing out as he stopped just shy of me with his hands held out to the side.

“Baby, you don’t ever have to fear me. Now this dipshit”—jerking his head toward Koen—“on the other hand, should be very afraid.”

He winked, then smiled. Closing the gap between us, he swept a few strands of damp hair behind my ear before stroking my cheek with the back of his finger. Every ounce of tension left my body as I studied his piercing ebony eyes. They were intensely focused on mine, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself that I was okay.

“Hi,” I breathed, leaning into his touch.

“Hey,” he returned.

“I’m a mess. I should go clean up.”

“You’re sexy as fuck, which is why I was pissed when I got here.” Confusion dripped from the frown on my face. Leaning close, he said in a hushed tone, “When I saw the text from Koen…let’s just say my dick greatly appreciated your outfit, while the possessive asshole side of me did not like the fact you were half naked in front of another man.”

“I’m not half naked.”

“Baby, you are.”

“I’d have less on at a beach,” I argued.

“We’re in the mountains.”

“Lanie’s wearing the same thing.”

“She isn’t mine.” He punctuated the statement with a fast, hard kiss to my lips, preventing any further argument.

We were both panting when he pulled away to stare deeply into my eyes. If I hadn’t been looking at him, I wouldn’t have noticed the abrupt change in his demeanor. Gone was my Keaton and in his place was Special Agent Clarke. The transformation was fascinating, if not a tad scary.

“We need to talk.”

Taking hold of my hand, he led me up the stairs to my room, leaving his team behind. Once inside, he positioned me in the center of the bed, then crawled in behind me, bracketing my body with his thick thighs. Curling an arm around my middle, he hauled me back into his chest, resting his head against my shoulder. We sat that way for what seemed like hours before I severed the stillness coating the air around us.

“Keaton? What’s going on?” I hated the quiver in my voice, but I hated his silence even more.

“My real name is Calvin Keaton Renshaw,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. My body went taut then suddenly I was the one who was pissed. For days, he’d been lying to me.

“Just hold tight, baby. Let me explain everything before you make any decisions, all right?”

His voice held such vulnerability, I couldn’t help but nod against his chest. It seemed ridiculous how in such a short amount of time, he’d become an integral part of my life. Crazy? Maybe. Yet here I was, falling for a man who apparently didn’t exist. I owed it to him—no—I owed it to myself to hear him out.

“Eleven years ago, I found out my father, the man I emulated, was a monster.”

The longer he spoke, the more my heart shattered for the seventeen-year-old boy, forced to make an impossible choice, who’d grown into the twenty-eight-year-old man currently holding me as if his life depended on it. Tears flowed from my eyes while he recounted the trial and conviction; the unwarranted guilt he placed at his own feet for not discovering his father’s crimes sooner.

“It wasn’t your fault, Keaton,” I whimpered, tilting my head back to find his eyes.

“Can you forgive me?” He ignored my statement.

Struggling against his hold, I managed to turn in his arms, kneeling between his legs. Cupping his neck with my hands, I repeated, “It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing to forgive. ”

He swallowed roughly, then dropped his forehead to mine. “Okay, Little Bird.”

The ghosts of the past haunted him to this day, yet somehow this incredible man had risen above the shadows and soared. It was time for me to do the same.

“My mom was a prostitute.” I’d never spoken those words out loud before. As soon as they left my mouth I felt lighter, as if I was somehow released from invisible shackles. “She tried working regular jobs, but nothing ever paid the bills quite like selling her body.”

Strong hands rubbed gentle circles on my lower back, soothing the ache which lingered deep in my heart, as I continued to tell him about our life. God, I missed her so much. She was my rock and when she died, my world spiraled out of control. It was Nana’s idea to study social work; to keep her memory alive by helping others who had nowhere else to turn. I’d found my purpose, then Chase McArthur callously destroyed those dreams without a second thought.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed my forehead when I finished. “I’ve already got Nelson digging into that prick’s background. He’ll find something.”

His tone was absolute, as if there was no room for failure. While I appreciated his confidence more than I could express, I wouldn’t allow myself to get my hopes up just yet. There were too many ways it could all go sideways.

“We need to talk about one more thing, unfortunately.” He twisted, maneuvering us until we were lying on the pillows, my back to his front. I felt completely safe…cocooned in his presence.

“Did you happen to catch the press conference on the news this morning?”

I nodded. When Lanie had left for work, I’d been bored out of my skull, so I started flipping through the channels to see if I could find anything decent to watch when I’d come across it. Knowing there was a killer running around our town freaked me out.

Minutes passed before he finally spoke again. “The killer called me this afternoon.” His words had been so nonchalant, it took a second for them to register with my brain. I was well aware his job as an FBI agent was dangerous, but this? This wasn’t normal, was it? There had to be a reason.

“Why would he do that?”

“To taunt me,” he grunted. “Somehow, this fucker has a connection to my dad. He left a note with my name on it at the first crime scene here in Huntington, and there are aspects of the murders which are almost identical to the ones my father committed; parts which were never made public.”

“Holy shit.”

“It gets worse, Henley.” His grip around me tightened. He blew out a steady breath while my stomach twisted, bracing for the unknown. “He saw us together last night.”

Red-hot rage flamed in my belly, lighting a fire of indignation which spread over every inch of my body. My anger wasn’t directed at Keaton though. It was aimed at the asshole who’d caused the guilt I heard in his voice. Like somehow, he was at fault for being near me.

Fuck that!

Flipping over to face him, I planted my hands firmly on his broad chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart through his button-down shirt. He was wired; his muscles trembling beneath my touch.

“Stop it,” I snapped. His head jerked back and his eyes widened. “You’re taking on something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“You’re in danger because of me,” he hurled.

“Bullshit. I’m safe because of you.”

“Baby, you don’t understand.” The tension he carried in his shoulders deflated partially, but there was still an edge there I didn’t like. My Keaton, the man who stood up against college bullies without batting an eye, was too busy listening to the echoes of the past to pay attention to the present. So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him.