Page 11 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

“Seemed appropriate.” He held out the kitten, who hissed at me with impressive ferocity for something so small. “He doesn’t like people much. Came in last week, found in a dumpster. Won’t let anyone near him except?—”

The kitten chose that moment to scale Beckett’s shirt again, purring like a tiny motor.

“Except you, apparently.” A smile pulled at my lips.

“I have a way with the difficult ones.” He plucked Chaos from his shoulder, holding him at eye level. “Probably because I am one.”

The admission surprised me. Beckett Sinclair didn’t seem like the type for self-reflection, much less self-deprecation.

“Want to try holding him?” He offered the kitten.

“Oh, I don’t think?—”

“Come on. What’s the worst that could happen? He draws blood? I can pretty much guarantee he will.”

I looked at his hands then, really looked. Tiny scratches covered his fingers, some fresh, others healing. Battle scars from Operation Chaos.

Carefully, I reached out. Chaos hissed, ears flat against his orange head.

“Hey, little guy.” I kept my voice soft. “It’s okay.”

Chaos was having none of it. He twisted in Beckett’s hands, claws out, clearly ready to defend himself against this new threat.

“Maybe not today,” I said, pulling back.

“He’ll come around.” Beckett settled the kitten against his chest, where Chaos immediately calmed. “Just takes time. And patience. And occasionally some blood loss.”

“You have pets?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Something shifted in his expression. “Not anymore. You?”

“No.” The word shot out of me. Pets meant staying in one place. Meant vet records and registrations and all the traces I couldn’t afford to leave.

“Never? No childhood dog or goldfish or anything?”

“We had a cat when I was little.” The memory surfaced unexpectedly. “Mittens. Super original, I know. He liked to sleep on my brother’s head.”

Too late, I realized what I’d said. Brother. Past tense. Details I shouldn’t share.

Beckett’s eyes sharpened. “Your brother didn’t mind?”

“He pretended to.” I focused on Chaos, safer than meeting those searching eyes. “But he never made Mittens move.”

“Sounds like a good brother.”

My throat closed. I managed a nod.

Beckett shifted Chaos to one hand, reaching out like he might touch my shoulder. I stepped back instinctively, the movement as automatic as breathing.

He let his hand drop. “I know you have secrets, Audra.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Everyone has secrets.”

“True.” He studied me with those storm-gray eyes that seemed to see straight through my skin to all the broken pieces underneath. “But not everyone’s running from them.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are.” His voice stayed gentle, matter-of-fact. “I’ve seen it before. In war zones. In victims. Hell, in my own mirror some days.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the afternoon sun. “I should get back to work.”

“I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to.” He said it like a confession. “I know that. But if you need help—any kind of help—I’d like to try.”

“Why?” The question escaped before I could stop it. “You don’t even know me.”

He was quiet for a long moment, absently stroking Chaos’s orange fur. “Because I feel like I do. Somehow. Like we’ve met before, or should have, or…” He shook his head. “I’m not explaining it well.”

My chest ached. He felt it too, that connection. The echo between us, the ghost of something coloring every interaction.

“Anyway.” He shrugged. “Whatever you’re running from, you don’t have to face it alone.”

“Some things you do have to face alone.” My voice came out raw. “It’s the only option.”

“Nothing is ever the only option.”

He was too close to the truth. Too close to breaking through walls I’d built from necessity and mortared with fear.

“Try again with Chaos,” he said, offering the kitten once more. “Sometimes the second attempt goes better.”

This time when I reached out, I moved slower. Let Chaos smell my fingers first. He hissed, but with less conviction.

“That’s it,” Beckett murmured. “Let him come to you.”

Chaos sniffed suspiciously, then delivered a lightning-fast swipe that caught my knuckle.

“Ow.” I pulled back, blood welling from a thin scratch.

“Welcome to the club.” Beckett’s smile was real. “He only attacks people he’s considering trusting.”

“Weird trust-building exercise.”

“The best ones usually are.”

We stood there in the afternoon sun, a tiny orange kitten between us, and I felt that pull again—the dangerous urge to trust, to tell him everything.

“I should go,” I said.

“Wait.” His voice stopped me. “Before you go—I meant what I said. About feeling like I know you. There’s something familiar…”

I froze, caught between the door and his searching gaze.

“I need to tell you something.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. If I didn’t say it now, I never would. And maybe, just maybe, if he knew about Todd, he’d stop digging into the rest. “About why I came here. Why I knew your name.”

He waited, patient as he’d been with Chaos.

“My brother.” My voice cracked on the word. “He knew you. Served with you briefly.”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Your brother was military?”

“No. Well, yes, before. But then he was a cop. In Portland.” I forced myself to meet his gaze, to watch recognition dawn. “Todd Cartland.”

The change was immediate. Beckett went absolutely still, that predator stillness I’d noticed before. But now I understood it better. That was how he processed shock.

“Todd.” He said my brother’s name like a prayer. “Jesus. Your Todd’s sister. I haven’t heard from him in…”

“In at least eighteen months.” The words were hard to get out. “I know that for sure.”

His jaw tightened. “He died.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded. “Car accident.”

The kitten mewed, picking up on the sudden tension. Beckett looked down at Chaos like he’d forgotten he was holding him, then back at me with something broken in his expression.

“I didn’t know.” His voice came out rough. “I should have known. Should have—Christ, Todd’s dead?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“And you’re—you’re his sister. The one he talked about. The one who loved hiking and scuba diving.” He stopped, shook his head. “That’s why you’re in Garnet Bend. Because of Todd.”

“He mentioned you,” I whispered. “Said you were good people. Said this land was beautiful. He always planned for us to visit together.”

Beckett stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time, cataloging features that suddenly made sense.

“Todd’s sister,” he repeated. “God, I can see it now. The eyes. The way you tilt your head when you’re thinking. He did that too.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked hard, refusing to let them fall. I was thankful Beckett’s focus wasn’t on me and the things I couldn’t explain. It was on Todd—on the man we’d both loved and lost.

And for the first time in forever, I wasn’t completely alone with that grief.