Page 146 of Tangled Like Us
I lead her to the corner of the gym. Where a worn boxing bag hangs from the ceiling and a mirrored wall catches our reflections.
“I’ve taken self-defense classes before with my brothers,” Jane says, slipping on a white glove, “but Krav Maga is quite different from boxing, isn’t it?”
I nod.
All of the Cobalts, Meadows, and Hales took Krav Maga when they were kids.
I watch Jane struggle to undo the Velcro of her second glove. Biting the end, she tries to pry it open with her teeth.
“Here.” I take the glove from Jane.
“Thank you.” She holds out her arm.
I tug the glove onto her wrist, and my eyes fix on hers. “What you learned is based on instinct and defense,” I explain briefly. “If someone grabbed you from behind and you were alone and afraid—God fucking forbid.” I attach the Velcro at her wrist. “Krav Maga teaches you to react confidently and efficiently. To turn, knee them in the groin, and run.”
“Avoiding and preventing greater violence,” she concludes with a nod. “Beckett was particularly good at the knee-to-the-groin move when we were little.”
I stiffen at the mention of Beckett.
Banks recently told me something he saw while he was on-duty in New York. Something involving Beckett Cobalt, her twenty-one-year-old brother.
Something that’s not good.
I shouldn’t tell Jane. Ethically I should keep my mouth wired shut. It’s not information that’s pertinent to her life. So this should stay within the team.
It should stay buried.
But I’m looking at this glowing, freckle-cheeked angel with a honey-dripping, heart-exploding voice. A girl who loves her family like an extension of her fucking soul. And if our positions were reversed, I’d want to know about Banks.
Jane starts to frown. “Is something wrong?”
I make a choice.
While she leans a hip into the boxing bag, I edge close. Gripping the top of the bag, I dip my head towards her. Until it feels like we’re the only two in the gym.
I just say it. “Banks told me he saw Beckett doing key bumps behind a dumpster.”
She freezes. Her wide-eyed reaction is harder to read.
I drop my voice. “Do you know what key bumps are?”
“Oui.” She rests her gloved hands on my chest. Chin on top of them.
I drape my arm around her shoulders.I’m allowed.She’s safe here, and they all think this is for the video.
She further clarifies, “Your brother saw my brother snorting cocaine.”
“You knew about his drug use?” I ask. She seems more surprised that Banks found out. That I found out.
“It just came to my attention this summer.” In one breath, she quickly explains how Beckett has been using drugs because he believes he dances better on them. “Only Charlie, Moffy, Oscar, Donnelly, and Farrow know about this…now you and Banks do as well—you both can’t tell anyone else. We’re still trying to help Beckett, but it’s a…delicate process.”
I’m always thinking about the team too. And Beckett’s bodyguard has a family history of drug abuse. Their pairing is now an instant red flag.
Donnelly won’t supply drugs to his client. He passed his initial background check because he said he hasnocontact with suppliers. He said he hates hard drugs. He said he prefers not being around them.
I assume he loves Beckett enough that he doesn’t want to leave his detail.
But for his well-being, he should be transferred. Akara is my good friend, and he’s in charge of these men. If he finds out about this, he’ll move Donnelly to a new client. He has to look out for everyone on SFO and make the hard calls that no one likes to make.
