The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(80)

“What do you need from me?”

Just like that. No hesitation. No trying to figure out how to turn things to benefit himself.

I’m an asshole for doubting him, even for a second.

“Journey and Anderson are meeting this morning to figure out their next step. Getting Elliott out of Houston is worth temporarily agreeing to Esther’s demands. If you’d be willing to work together to oust the Bancrofts, it would be useful.”

“Of course.” Beck nodded. “They’re in this mess in part because of the ultimatum I offered Lydia. I owe it to them to help.”

“That’s bullshit.” Even if he wanted his friend’s help, he couldn’t let that guilty nonsense stand. “Lydia made her bed when she went after you. She wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead, and you damn well know it. I didn’t see any of her kids jumping up to stop her when she was plotting murder. You don’t owe them shit.”

Beck gave a half smile. “They’re family, Frank. I meant it when I said I wanted to mend bridges, and so I’d offer to help solely for that reason. Plus, Samara and Journey are friends—and apparently Journey matters a lot to you.” He shrugged. “The whys are less important than the hows. I’ll reach out to Anderson this afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Beck shook his head. “And you also didn’t have to come in here with your reasoning all laid out as if I was going to tell you no. Fuck, Frank, you don’t ask me for shit. You never have. Short of murder, I’m going to do whatever I can to help you.”

Part of him had known that, but hearing it spoken aloud still startled him. “I’ve asked you for shit before.”

“No, you haven’t. Not since we’ve been adults. We’re friends, but you are always there when I need you, and you haven’t asked me for a single damn thing.” Beck met his gaze directly. “You didn’t even want me around after your mom passed, Frank.”

“Beck—”

“I get it. I do.” He pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his dark hair. “And I didn’t need you to reach out just to make me feel better, but it set the tone for our friendship after that.” He smiled. “My point is that it’s nice to finally be the one helping out.”

Frank opened his mouth, reconsidered, and shut it. He pushed slowly to his feet, feeling as ungainly as he had as a stupid teenager. Before his world went up in flames. Before everything had changed. He hesitated, but Beck was his family. The only family he had left.

“Losing her broke me, Beck,” he said quietly. “I begged her to take treatment. I pleaded and yelled and guilted her and cried, and she never wavered. She chose death, and kept choosing death every single fucking day from her diagnosis until she took her last breath.” Even after all these years, it hurt to say it. “I couldn’t face anyone after that. Not even you. The ground was gone beneath my feet and up was down and down was up and all I wanted to do was destroy the last few things in my life that mattered to me. If I’d reached out then, it would have been to burn our friendship to the ground.”

Beck didn’t seem to breathe. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I would have done something unforgivable.” Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. But even in the midst of all that shit, I knew I didn’t want to lose you. So I left first, at least until the world stopped spinning on its head.”

Beck crossed the space between them and pulled him into a rough hug. “You stubborn asshole.” He released him and stepped back. “We’ll get through this.” His grin turned wicked. “Samara mentioned something about a double-date vacation.”

Frank snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s survive this shit before you start planning out the rest of my life.” Though he kind of liked the picture that presented. Spending time with the two people who he cared most about in the world when things weren’t burning down around them. Some relaxation and a break from Houston—and Journey in a string bikini.

Focus on dealing with the enemy and then worry about the aftermath.

He clasped Beck on the shoulder. “Thanks. We’ll talk more soon.”

“Hey, Frank.”

“Yeah?”

The amusement drained from Beck’s face, leaving concern in its wake. “Be careful. Esther Bancroft isn’t someone to fuck with. We’ll get her out of Houston, but in the meantime…just be careful.”

“I will.”

He took the elevator down to the parking garage. Frank headed for the SUV he’d chosen to drive today, rather than his Audi. Eliza King’s hit-and-run was at the forefront of his mind when he and Journey left his house this morning, and as much as he enjoyed the Audi, it wouldn’t take a hit the same way the SUV could. He checked his phone, but other than a text from José saying that Journey was still at the hospital and safe, there was no news.

The vehicle chirped as he unlocked it, but the sound was immediately drowned out by the wail of an alarm several cars down. Frank hesitated. There was no reason to think that alarm had anything to do with him, but he recognized Beck’s silver BMW as the source of the sound. Strange coincidence, if someone believed in that sort of thing.

He didn’t.

Frank edged to his SUV and grabbed his gun from the holster near the emergency brake. He stopped at the rear of the vehicle and looked around, but there was no one in sight. There had to be something going on, because car alarms didn’t just go off for shits and giggles. He kept the gun at his side and stalked toward Beck’s car.