Page 7 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

“Where are you staying in town?” I finally asked.

She stepped back from the fence, hand dropping to her side. “I should get back to work. Those stalls won’t clean themselves.”

“Audra—” I truly hadn’t been trying to upset her.

But she was already moving, that controlled not-quite-run I’d noticed before. Jet whined, pacing the fence line as she disappeared into the barn.

I kenneled the dogs and spent the rest of the afternoon on routine maintenance. Checking fences, organizing feed supplies, fixing a gate latch that had been sticking. Normal work that kept my hands busy while my mind churned.

Something was off about Audra. The way she’d reacted to my name that first day. The exhaustion that went all the way to your soul. The careful distance she maintained, like someone who’d learned not to get too close to anything she might have to leave behind.

By five thirty, the workday was officially over. I was adjusting the automatic waterers in the horse pasture when I spotted Audra hovering near the barn entrance. Not working, just standing there like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“You heading out?” I called.

She startled, hand flying to her chest. “Yes. I just wanted to make sure everything was finished.”

“Workday ended thirty minutes ago.”

“Right. I know. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Same time?”

“Yes. Seven sharp.” She adjusted her backpack straps, fingers worrying at the frayed edges. “Lark said she’d pay me when she gets back. That’s still okay?”

The question carried weight. Desperation masked as casual inquiry.

“That’s the arrangement.” I watched her carefully. “Unless you need to leave town before then.

“No, I’ll be here.” The words came too fast, too firm. She glanced over at the barn again. “Every day. I’ll be here.”

She headed for her car, an ancient Honda that looked barely held together. I watched her drive away, waiting until the taillights disappeared around the bend before heading to the guest house.

The space wasn’t huge, more like a small apartment, but it was clean and had a simple layout.

Kitchen with a small dining area, living area, bedroom, bathroom, short hallway, and a couple of closets.

Everything I needed for two weeks of watching the property.

I’d just finished unpacking when movement outside caught my eye in the gathering darkness.

Parking lights, not headlights, approaching slowly. Someone not wanting to draw attention to themselves. That rarely meant good news.

I killed the lights and moved to the window. The car pulled off the main drive, stopping near the barn rather than parking in the lot.

I grabbed my Glock and slipped out into the dimming light, making my way to the barn. I stopped when I realized it was Audra’s Honda.

She got out, looked around, then grabbed something from her trunk. A towel. Shampoo. She entered through the side door, the one that led to the utility area where we had a bathroom with a shower for washing off after particularly messy jobs. A second later, I could hear the water running.

What the actual fuck?

Why had she snuck back to take a shower? Everybody who worked at Pawsitive took showers here from time to time when we had somewhere to go directly from here and didn’t want to have animal hair or smell all over us. Lark kept a set of old towels in the little closet just for that reason.

Why hadn’t Audra just taken a shower before she left? What was with the cloak-and-dagger stuff with no headlights?

I stayed hidden, watching the barn door. Ten minutes passed. Finally, she emerged, hair wet, wearing different clothes. She looked around again, that careful scan of someone who’d learned to always check for threats, then headed back to her car.

She drove away, taillights disappearing into the darkness. Maybe I was making too much of this, but it didn’t make sense for her to come all the way back out here from town.

I headed back to the house, but even hours later, sleep felt impossible.

Instead, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, staring at the cursor blinking in the search bar, wondering if I should do a search on Audra.

I could ask Lark for her last name. I could find out who she was.

Run her plates, do a background check, uncover whatever she was running from. It wouldn’t take me long.

Hell, I could ask Travis Hale, Warrior Security’s reclusive tech guru, to do it, and he’d have it for me in under a minute, probably.

My fingers hovered over the keys.

Then Rodriguez’s voice echoed in my memory: You can’t save everyone, Sinclair. Sometimes you just have to watch and be ready.

But I’d failed at that once already. Failed to watch close enough, react fast enough. Rodriguez had died because I’d missed the signs.

I closed the laptop without typing anything. Whatever Audra’s story was, she’d earned the right to tell it in her own time. Or not tell it at all.

But I’d be watching.

I just had to figure out why she felt so familiar. And why looking at her made my chest tight with guilt I couldn’t name.