Page 6 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

Beckett

The morning sun painted Pawsitive Connections in shades of gold and green, the kind of peaceful scene that belonged on postcards.

I’d been up since five, unable to shake the habit of predawn wake-ups even two years out of the military.

Coffee steam curled from my mug as I watched Lark race between buildings, her movements quick and frantic.

“Beck, did you check the medication schedule for Fernando?” She appeared in the barn doorway, clipboard clutched against her chest. “He needs his anti-inflammatory at noon, not eleven like I wrote yesterday. And make sure Duke gets his allergy pill with peanut butter, not cheese—he’s been having digestive issues. ”

“I know.” I kept my voice steady, patient. “Same routine as last month when you went to that fundraiser.”

“Right. Of course.” She pushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, then immediately pulled it free again. Her nervous energy filled the space between us. “And the cats—make sure Princess Whiskers gets the filtered water. She won’t drink tap.”

“Already changed it out this morning.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good. I’m not sure Audra can remember everything.

” She flipped through pages on her clipboard, scanning lists she’d already memorized.

“The delivery comes Thursday. Dog food, cat litter, hay. The invoice is in the office filing cabinet under ‘Pending.’ They’ll want payment on delivery, cash or check from the blue folder?—”

“Lark.” I set down my mug, crossing my arms. “I’ve got it. Everything’s handled.”

She looked up at me, and I saw it then—the real fear underneath all the fussing. This place was her whole world. Her animals, her sanctuary, her purpose. Two weeks away might as well have been two years.

“I know you do. I just…” She gestured helplessly at the property around us. “This is the longest I’ve been away from them. Ever. What if something happens? What if?—”

“Nothing’s happening on my watch.” The words came out harder than intended, carrying weight I hadn’t meant to add. But promises meant something to me. Maybe too much.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. “Hunter knows you’re here? That you might not be available?”

“Hunter’s aware. We’re keeping my workload light the next two weeks.” Hunter Everett ran Warrior Security like he’d run military ops—with contingencies for contingencies. “If something big comes up where they need all hands, Jada offered to cover here.”

That got a small smile from her. “Jada’s good with the animals. Especially since she got those kittens.”

“And if Jada can’t help, then it’ll be Evelyn. Or Lena. Cori will put her vet practice on hold and rush over. Nobody at Resting Warrior is letting these animals go without. You know that. You can focus on your conference.”

She nodded, but her gaze drifted past me toward the barn. I followed her line of sight and spotted Audra mucking out stalls, her movements efficient despite the exhaustion written in every line of her body.

“About Audra…” Lark’s voice dropped, taking on that careful tone she used when approaching touchy subjects.

“I set up a payment arrangement with her. She’ll get paid when I get back.

But if she decides to leave before then—” Lark paused, watching my face “—could you pay her for the hours she’s worked?

I’ll reimburse you as soon as I’m home.”

“You think she’ll run?”

“I think she might.” Lark’s fingers worried at the corner of her clipboard. “She’s skittish. Reminds me of the rescue dogs we get sometimes. The ones that have been hurt bad enough they can’t quite believe the pain’s really over.”

I studied Audra through the barn’s open doors.

She worked steadily, never looking up, never pausing.

But I caught the way she positioned herself—always facing the entrance, never letting anyone get between her and the exit.

Classic defensive positioning. The kind you learned through hard experience.

“She could be playing you.” The words tasted bitter but needed saying. “Sob story, cash payments, no questions asked. It’s a good setup for someone looking to take advantage.”

Lark’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her eyes. A shadow of her own past, maybe. Stories she’d never told. “Maybe. Or maybe she just needs someone to give her a chance without asking for explanations she can’t give.”

“That’s dangerous thinking.”

“Is it? Look,” Lark said, gentler now. “I’m not asking you to trust her. I’m asking you to let her work. She’s good with the animals, Beck. Really good. And right now, she needs this job more than we need to know her story.”

I watched Audra exit one stall and enter another, her thin frame swallowed by work clothes that hung loose on her body. Something about her nagged at me. A familiarity I couldn’t place, like a word on the tip of my tongue.

“Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Lark’s smile carried a hint of sadness. “Just remember—sometimes the most dangerous people are the ones who’ve been hunted, not the hunters.”

Before I could respond, she was moving again, rattling off more instructions about feeding schedules and vet appointments. I let her words wash over me, filing away the important bits while the rest dissolved into background noise.

By afternoon, Lark had finally run out of things to fuss over. I helped load her suitcase into her car, endured another round of reminders about Princess Whiskers and her filtered water, and watched her drive away with one last worried look at the property.

The silence that followed felt heavy. Just me, Audra, and forty acres of animals who needed tending.

I headed for the training ring, wanting the familiar routine of working the security dogs. Duke, Rosie, Atlas, and Jet were already waiting in their kennel runs, tails wagging with anticipation. I leashed them up one by one, leading them to the fenced training area.

Duke fell into position immediately, all business despite washing out of police work for being “too soft.” He had the instincts but not the aggression. Still made him perfect for personal protection work—the kind where you wanted deterrence more than attack.

Rosie bounced at the end of her lead, barely containing her enthusiasm. She’d make someone an excellent companion dog once we worked through her inability to focus on anything for more than thirty seconds.

Atlas, the Belgian Malinois, moved like liquid shadow, every muscle coiled and ready. He’d make the cut for security work. Had the focus, the drive, the controlled aggression when needed.

Then there was Jet.

While the others lined up for drills, the black German shepherd stood sideways, attention fixed on something near the barn. His tail wagged in slow, hopeful arcs, body language screaming distraction.

“Jet, focus.” I kept my voice firm but not harsh.

He glanced at me, tail wagging harder, then immediately looked back toward the barn. I followed his gaze and spotted her—Audra, watching from beside the water trough, frozen like she’d been caught stealing.

“Positions,” I commanded the dogs.

Duke, Rosie, and Atlas responded immediately. Jet took three steps toward Audra before remembering he was supposed to be working. He circled back, sat crooked, and immediately started creeping forward again.

I ran through basic defense drills with the other three while Jet continued his comedy routine. When Atlas executed a perfect controlled takedown on the padded sleeve, Jet trotted over to sniff the dummy’s face. When Duke held his ground against an approaching threat , Jet tried to play-bow.

The sun beat down, warm despite the early fall day, and sweat soaked through my T-shirt. I called a water break, letting the dogs lap from the bowls I’d set out earlier. All except Jet, who beelined for the fence where Audra still stood.

I’d been trying to work with him for three months now. Lark had asked me to evaluate him for security work, but it was becoming clear that Jet’s talents lay elsewhere. Problem was, he wasn’t suited for therapy work either—too energetic, too distractible, too…something.

“Jet.” My command carried enough authority to stop him mid-stride. “Here.”

He looked between Audra and me, clearly torn. His whole body vibrated with the need to go to her, but training held. Barely. Good. Obedience was important whether Jet worked security or not.

“Back in position.”

He obeyed, but his heart wasn’t in it. Every few seconds, his head swiveled toward Audra. When I gave the command to heel, he walked sideways, neck craned to keep her in sight.

After ten more minutes of failed attempts, I admitted defeat. “Free,” I told him.

Jet launched himself toward the fence as if he’d been shot from a cannon. He skidded to a stop just short of crashing into the chain link, whole body wiggling with joy. Audra’s hand came through the fence, tentative at first, then more confident as Jet leaned into her touch.

I’d never seen him react to anyone like that. Not even Lark, who’d bottle-raised him after his mother rejected the litter.

“I’m sorry,” Audra called, not quite meeting my eyes. “I didn’t mean to distract him.”

I walked over, the other three dogs trailing behind me. Up close, I could see the shadows under her eyes, darker than they’d been yesterday. The way her free hand stayed fisted at her side, ready for flight or fight.

“Where’d you learn to handle dogs?” The question came out more interrogation than conversation.

She stiffened. “I didn’t learn it. I mean, I just like animals.”

“Lark wants me to figure out what to do with him.” I watched Jet lean his entire body weight against the fence where Audra’s hand touched. “Can’t place him until we know what he’s suited for.”

“Maybe he just needs the right person to choose him.”

The words were quiet, almost lost in the afternoon breeze. But there was something in the way she said it—like she understood what it meant to not fit anywhere. She stared at Jet, lost in thought.