He was immediately hard.

“Uh, sorry,” he murmured, turning at a ninety-degree angle from her and diverting his gaze to the floor.

She gasped. “Shit. Do you realize you make, like, no noise when you move?”

He scrubbed his hand over his hair and willed his libido under control. This was the damn problem in a nutshell. “Sorry. Old habit.” He caught movement in his peripheral vision but didn’t let himself look.

“Yeah. My dad was the same freaking way.”

And there went the erection.

“It’s so nice out, I was worried I’d be too warm in long sleeves. Did you need something?” she asked, stepping into the office in a short-sleeved shirt. With a flash of her hands, she twisted her long hair up on top of her head and used a band to hold it up off her neck.

He gave a tight nod and forced himself to focus despite the fact that the lacy bra remained visible through the white V-neck. “I need to apologize.”

Emotion flickered over her expression, but she just looked at him.

“I was an ass and I didn’t mean—”

“Look—” She shook her head and stepped to the door. “Let’s not do this. Okay? I’m not going to lie, you hurt my feelings. But, in the end, it was a good thing. Because you reminded me I need to stay focused on Charlie. I can’t be distracted by anything else. So don’t sweat it.”

Voices sounded from the living room, and Nick frowned. The words should’ve given him relief. She’d let him off the hook and wanted bygones to be bygones. But there was that damn boulder again. “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”

Anticipation filled his gut as they entered the living room. Standing in the middle of Shane, Easy, and Beckett was Derek DiMarzio, looking about a hundred times better than the last time Nick had seen him. His brown hair had grown out to the length of his jaw, and his shoulders appeared bulkier under his shirt. Hell, he looked downright fit and healthy, maybe even like he had a bit of a tan. Most noticeably, he was standing on his own two feet. Or, presumably, his own foot and a prosthesis.

Nick walked right up to him and held out a hand. “Thanks for coming, man. You look great.”

Marz wore his trademark smile, just one watt dimmer than a full-on grin, and returned the shake. “I feel great. Nice to see you. Thanks for giving us a reason to get back together.”

Rixey felt the unspoken sarcasm radiating from the other three, but he let it go. Hard not to feel a healthy dose of positivity and gratitude in the face of someone like Marz, who had suffered the most catastrophic injuries of any of them yet seemed to have the best attitude.

“Come on in. Grab some slices and let us catch you up.”

“I just dumped my gear there,” he said, pointing to a stack of cases by the front door. “That kosher?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Marz crossed to the kitchen with barely a limp, and Rixey wasn’t ashamed to admit that emotion threatened to choke him up. He looked at the other guys and realized they were watching Marz, too, and in that moment they were united in their admiration for the teammate they all remembered lying in pieces on the war-torn ground. Nick had been the closest to Marz and Murda when the grenade had shot into their position. Marz had seen the writing on the wall a split second before his teammate and had shoved him out of the way. The explosion had taken both men down, Murda’s leg mangled and Marz’s gone from below the knee.

By that time, Rixey had already taken two rounds in the lower back, but Marz’s leg had fountained blood. So Nick had dragged himself over, torn the Afghani scarf he’d bought at a bazaar on base from around his neck, and balled it against the wound. Their medic had already been taken out, so Shane had gone to work on the pair of them while Nick had pitched in how he could. Easy, Axton, and Harlow had provided them cover, but only Easy had survived.

Man, Rixey had done them all a disservice by dropping off the face of the earth. All this time, they’d needed each other. They’d needed to know how everyone was doing and handling the multitude of shit hands they’d been dealt. They’d needed to draw strength and determination and resolve from the one place that had always given them those things—their team. Damnit all to hell and back. He had failed them.

When a man wore the Special Forces tab on his uniform, he held himself to a higher standard. Marz was clearly living up to it. Nick wasn’t.

That changed now. No more excuses. No more burying his head in the friggin’ sand. No more cutting himself off.

Marz opened a lid and grabbed two slices. He turned and looked at them all. “What?”

The question flipped a switch in the rest of them. Suddenly they were all making small talk and gathering around the chow.

“Nothing,” Nick said, joining him at the bar. He handed plates to Becca and the other guys. “Marz, I want you to meet Becca Merritt. It’s her brother, Charlie, we’re looking for.”

Nick saw the momentary calculus flash through Marz’s gaze, but it was nothing Becca would pick up on. “Becca. Wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” he said.

She smiled, right away more at ease around Derek than she’d been around the others so far. “You, too.”

Once everyone had food, they took up spots around the living room, the guys filling the couches and chairs and Becca and Marz kneeling on the floor at the coffee table despite everyone’s offers to give up their seats.

Rixey caught Marz up on the details of what’d happened before his arrival, then asked everyone to report on what they’d learned in the morning.

“We canvassed Charlie’s street and talked to some neighbors, though the man who lives upstairs wasn’t home,” Shane said, looking at Becca. She nodded. “No witnesses, but one person told us Charlie cabbed everywhere. It’s not a neighborhood where cabs regularly drive through looking for fares, so he would’ve had to call. There are a lot of taxi services in this city, but assuming he went with one of the bigger ones, we’re talking about doing follow-up with eight to ten.”

“He got rid of his car a few years ago. He didn’t use it much and didn’t like that it made his movement easy to track.” Becca looked at Marz with a twist of her lips. “He could be a bit paranoid.”

“Not unusual among hackers, especially good ones, which it sounds like he must be if he’s making a decent living white hattin’ it.” She frowned, and Marz added, “Meaning hacking for nonmalicious reasons. Getting paid by corporations to do it for security testing.” All this was right up Derek’s alley. Computer security, surveillance, and investigations were some of his specialties. He liked tech and he liked toys and he liked to talk about them and explain them until your ears bled with an utter lack of understanding. But you went along with it because he was scary brilliant. “So, we need into phone records, dispatch records, what else? Credit card records? Any of his equipment available to scan?”

“No,” Becca said. “All his machines were gone. Or taken.”

Marz pursed his lips. “I brought some high-powered gear, but a lot of what we’re talking about is usually subpoena territory. What’s the thinking?”

Rixey filled him in on what Miguel had learned and met Becca’s fretful gaze, knowing she was worried about them on this point. But it couldn’t be helped. “We’re off the grid on this.”

Derek nailed him with a stare, his brain clearly chewing on the idea behind his dark brown eyes. “Given everything that’s at stake, I’m okay with that.”

With Marz, things were always that easy. And it helped that he had the skills to make it happen, with or without permission.

But it also meant they were officially operating outside the law.

Nick filled Marz in on Becca’s plan to post a reward, and the man scrambled up off the ground, crossed the room, and grabbed a bag off the pile. He knelt on the floor next to Becca and pulled a laptop free of the case. “I need to write all this down. Make a list of tasks and equipment.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled at Becca as the machine booted up, enthusiasm pouring off him.

She grinned, then did a double take at something behind him.

When he’d taken a knee, his pants leg had ridden up, revealing the metal pylon of the prosthesis on his right leg. Marz glanced her way again and saw her looking.

“AK or BK?” she asked, diving right into the subject none of the men had yet broached. And damn if that didn’t impress him.

“Below the knee.” He patted the shank. “Got my own hardware now, complete with shocks and microprocessors. Actually, this is one of four.”

“Why so many?”

He ticked off on his fingers. “One for running, one for rough terrain, one for street wear, a waterproof one for showering.”

“You’re running?” Beckett asked, his expression a careful mask.

“Dude, I’m running an eight-minute mile,” he said. Pride in his friend flooded through Rixey. Marz was a damned inspiration. That much was sure. “All right, here we go.” Marz’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Most of the time, Beckett kept things battened down inside, not showing much reaction one way or the other. It was part of the reason their fight had caught Nick off guard last night. But Nick saw emotion surface in the other man’s eyes, guilt and grief warring with gratitude and admiration. Rixey didn’t shy away from it, though. He held Beck’s gaze and willed him to know he was there for him. Damnit, Murda, it wasn’t your fault.

All of a sudden, Becca pushed up from the table. “Anyone want another slice?” she asked, skirting around Nick’s chair as a few of the guys called out affirmatives. She went straight to the sink and turned on the faucet, but then she just stood there.

Rixey frowned as he watched her. And then he saw it. Her shoulders shaking, just the smallest bit. Was she crying?

Torn between giving her privacy and aching to know what had upset her, he eased out of his chair and grabbed another slice for himself, making plenty of noise with the box so she knew he was there. She stiffened and wiped at her face, then washed and dried her hands.

When she turned, he was right there. She tried to look away, but he grabbed her chin with his fingers. God, he wanted to kiss her, kiss away whatever had caused the sadness behind those baby blues. Emotion played over her face, like she didn’t know what to say or maybe was afraid to say anything at all. And, okay. He’d really just wanted her to know he was there for her. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment so he could breathe her sweetness in, then stepped away. He grabbed his plate and returned to his seat.

A few minutes later, she was delivering slices to everyone who’d asked for more and resuming her place beside Marz. “What is all that?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Equipment I might need.”

She blew out a breath and surveyed the group. “Whatever any of this costs, none of it is coming out of your pockets. If you say we need it, we’ll get it. And I’ll figure that part of it out.”

Nick frowned. He could guess what professional-grade computer and surveillance equipment might cost, and it wasn’t chump change. Besides, if his suspicions were right, they were getting as much out of this as she and Charlie were. Maybe more. “Becca—”

“No, I mean it. I have a decent savings tucked away. This is more than a good enough reason to use it.”

The men nodded, and Rixey let it go for now. He could tell in the looks they exchanged between themselves that she’d earned a notch of respect, first for addressing Marz’s amputation head-on, and then for this. Damn, there was just so much to admire about this woman.

“You got a place for me to set up shop, Rix?” Marz asked. “I’m going to need workspace for several computers and some equipment, lots of outlets, and internet access.”

Nick frowned, thinking the problem through, then nodded. “Probably not ideal, but I’ve got a gym across the hall. The whole back corner is totally open. It’s all wired for cable and internet, otherwise the space is rough.”

“Secure?”

“Completely.”

Marz shrugged. “I’m easy.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Easy said.

“Heard that about both of you,” Shane said.

Marz barked out a laugh. “Fucker.” His head whipped toward Becca. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I can handle some ‘fucks.’ ” And damn if she didn’t wink, knowing full well what she’d just said. Didn’t look his way, though.

“Well, fuck, then,” Marz said, grinning. The guys laughed. Rixey shifted in his seat, her words sending his brain in all kinds of directions it did not need to go. “All right. I just emailed this list to myself. So let’s go do some toy shopping and get this show on the road.”