Page 14 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

Beckett

My fist connected with the heavy bag, the impact reverberating up my arm and into my shoulder. The sound echoed through Warrior Security’s gym, punctuating the silence that had settled between Coop and me.

“You planning to tell me what’s eating you, or are we just beating equipment tonight?” Coop ducked under my next swing, moving behind the bag to steady it.

I landed another combination—jab, cross, hook—before answering. “Nothing’s eating me.”

“Right. That’s why you showed up at—” he checked his watch “—nine-thirty on a Tuesday night looking like you want to punch through concrete.”

The bag swung back toward me. I caught it, holding it still. For once, the nightmares hadn’t driven me here. Rodriguez’s voice wasn’t echoing in my head. The blood-soaked Afghan dirt wasn’t fresh in my mind.

No, this was different. This was frustration, pure and simple.

“It’s Audra.” The admission rumbled out of me.

Coop’s eyebrows shot up. “The new lady at Pawsitive Connections?”

“Yeah. Ends up her brother and I served together. That’s how she heard about Garnet Bend.”

“Perfect. Can you ask him what’s going on with her and how we can help?”

“Can’t. He’s dead. Died eighteen months ago in a car accident.” I resumed my assault on the bag, needing the physical outlet. “And she’s hiding something.”

“So what’s your theory?”

“I don’t have one. That’s the problem.” I stopped and stripped off my gloves, flexing my fingers. “Everything about her story has holes. She shows up in Garnet Bend with nothing but a backpack and a beat-up car. Takes a job that pays cash. Flinches when doors slam. Checks exits constantly.”

“Sounds like someone running from something bad.”

“Yeah, but why would Todd’s little sister be running from someone bad? The way he talked about her, she was always gentle and fun.” The frustration leaked through despite my efforts to contain it.

“You’re really twisted up about this girl.” Coop studied me with those sharp eyes. “This about being protective, or is there something else going on here?”

The question hit too close to home. I grabbed my water bottle, taking a long drink while I sorted through the tangle of motivations. Truth was, I couldn’t figure out why this woman I barely knew had gotten under my skin so thoroughly.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “Maybe both. She just… There’s something about her. More than just being Todd’s sister.”

Coop nodded slowly. “Well, at least you’re honest about it. That’s progress for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Beck. When’s the last time you let anyone in? Really let them in?” He pulled off his own gloves, settling onto the bench. “You’ve been locked up tighter than Fort Knox since you got back.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Sure it is.” He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Woman who’s skittish, keeping secrets, scarred up by whatever she’s been through. Ring any bells?”

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “You can fuck right off, Dr. Freud.”

Coop barked out a laugh, flipped me off, then grabbed his own water.

“Feels different from this side,” I admitted low.

“Always does.” He stretched his shoulders, easy as ever. “Look, you see someone hurting, you want to fix it. That’s who you are. Doesn’t make you broken.”

I nodded once, though patience wasn’t my strong suit. “Heading out?”

“Yeah. Back to Billings tomorrow—SWAT gig.”

“Shit. Forgot. You probably wanted an early night.”

“And miss beating the hell out of you? Not a chance.” He grinned as he grabbed his bag. “But yeah, cold front’s rolling in. Radio says snow soon. Might stay out there a while.”

“Thanks, Coop. For the sparring. And for not being a complete asshole.”

He just gave me a chin lift on his way out.

After he left, I went back to the bag, but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. Coop’s words kept cycling through my mind. Time. Space. Safety without strings.

I threw one last halfhearted combination at the bag before calling it quits.

The ten-minute drive back to Pawsitive Connections looked different at night.

Nothing but darkness surrounded by the overpowering shadows of the trees.

The temperature had definitely dropped—my breath fogged in the air as I walked from my truck to the guest house.

The main property sat quiet, the kennels dark except for the security lights. I’d done a final check on the animals before heading to Warrior Security, and Audra’s car had already been gone. Not unusual—she often left right at five, probably heading to whatever cheap motel she was staying at.

The house welcomed me with its familiar simplicity. I should have been tired after the workout with Coop, should have been ready to crash. Instead, restlessness crawled under my skin like ants.

I tried reading, but the words blurred together. Tried watching TV, but nothing held my attention. Finally, I gave up and pulled on my jacket. Sometimes walking was the only thing that helped clear my head. The cold air might shock some sense into me.

The moon hung low and bright, casting silver light across the grounds. I started toward the far pasture, needing the space, the silence. My boots crunched on frost-brittle grass—Coop was right about that cold front.

I’d made it halfway across the property and was about to head back to the house when I saw it. A faint glow coming from the equipment shed on the opposite side of the land for just a second. My body went rigid, training kicking in instantly.

We’d had break-ins before in Garnet Bend. Kids looking for tools to pawn, mostly. As far as I knew, Lark hadn’t had any problem with theft here, but I wasn’t going to let it happen on my watch.

I jogged back to my truck, cranking the engine and heading across the property. Gravel spat under my tires as I accelerated. If someone was stealing from Lark while she was gone?—

A sound cut through the night as I killed the engine twenty yards from the shed. Not the clatter of tools or the scrape of metal.

Something else. A thud. Like something hitting wood.

I was out of the truck and moving before my brain fully processed what I’d heard. The shed door was closed but not locked—the padlock hung open on the latch. As I approached, more sounds came from inside. Thrashing. A choked sob that made my blood run cold.

“Hello?” I tried the handle. The door moved an inch before catching on something, stopping all progress. “Anyone in there?”

The sounds intensified. Someone fighting. Someone trapped.

I put my shoulder into it, but whatever blocked the door held firm. The sounds inside were getting worse—gasping now, panicked.

“Stand back!” I yelled, though I wasn’t sure whoever was inside could hear me over their own distress.

I took three steps back, a deep breath, and then I drove forward, foot connecting with the door just beside the handle. Wood splintered. The door burst inward, whatever had been blocking it clattering aside.

A lantern that looked like it was from the 1970s illuminated the cramped interior. And there, tangled in a sleeping bag on a makeshift bed of moving blankets, was Audra.

Her eyes were closed, face contorted in terror. She thrashed against invisible restraints, fingernails catching on the sleeping bag’s fabric. A keening sound escaped her throat—pure fear given voice.

A nightmare. I knew the signs intimately.

“Audra.” I kept my voice calm, steady, though my heart hammered against my ribs. “Audra, you’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

She didn’t respond, lost too deep in whatever horror held her. I’d been there. Trapped in memories that felt more real than reality. You couldn’t just shake someone out of that.

I knelt beside her, careful not to touch. Touch could make it worse, could fold into the nightmare and become part of the threat.

“Audra, listen to my voice. It’s Beckett. You’re at Pawsitive Connections in Garnet Bend. You’re in the equipment shed. You’re safe.”

Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps. Hyperventilating. If she kept that up, she’d pass out.

“Breathe with me,” I said, making my own breathing audible. “Let’s just count. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.”

I repeated the pattern, over and over. Slowly, incrementally, her breathing began to sync with mine. The thrashing eased. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and wild.

“That’s it. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Recognition dawned slowly. “Beckett?” Her voice came out raw, scratched.

“Yeah. It’s me. You’re okay.”

She struggled upright, the sleeping bag falling away. She wore layers—thermal shirt, sweater, another jacket on top. Her breath misted in the cold air.

“I—” She looked around, reality crashing back. I saw the moment she realized where she was, what I’d found. “Oh God.”

“Just breathe,” I said. “Take your time.”

But I was already taking in the details. The lantern sitting on an overturned crate. A small camp stove in the corner. Clothes folded neatly in a plastic tub. What looked like an empty peanut butter jar leaning against the wall. There was organization. A system.

She hadn’t just been staying here tonight; she’d been living here.

“How long?” The question came out harder than intended.

She pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small. “I can explain.”

“How. Long.” Each word dropped like a stone.

“Since I started working here.”

Over a week. Eight days, she’d been sleeping in an unheated shed while I stayed in a warm house less than a quarter mile away. A week of?—

I stood abruptly, anger rising hot and fast. Not at her. At myself. How had I missed this? I’d been so focused on her secrets, on maintaining my own walls, that I’d missed what was right in front of me.

“Get your things,” I said.

Her face went pale. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—I’ll leave. Just please don’t call the police. I’ll go tonight, I promise.”

“Get your things,” I repeated, working to keep my voice level. “You’re not sleeping out here anymore.”