Page 8 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

Audra

The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. My eyes flew open in the darkness, chest heaving, shirt plastered to my skin with cold sweat. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. The shed. Right. The shed on Lark’s property.

Not Seattle. Not the motel in Portland. Not my car parked behind some abandoned building.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to push away the images from the nightmare. But they clung to me like smoke—his shadow in the doorway, the sound of his breathing, that whisper that had haunted me for a year now.

An eye for an eye.

I moved my hand to the back of my neck without thinking, fingers finding the raised tissue of the burn scar.

The memory tried to claw its way up, but I shoved it down hard.

If I let myself go back there, if I let myself remember that night in detail, I’d shatter into pieces I might never put back together.

I forced myself to take slow breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. The technique a therapist had taught me years ago, back when my biggest problems were normal things like work stress and bad dates.

Back before a faceless man decided to make my life his personal hunting ground.

A year. It had been a year since this had started in Seattle.

Six months since I’d finally run. Three months since I’d figured out he was tracking me electronically somehow—through my credit cards, my phone, something.

I’d ditched everything then, gone completely cash-only.

Made life infinitely harder, but at least I’d stayed ahead of the stalker for a while.

Until the money started running out three weeks ago. Until I’d had to start sleeping in my car, taking whatever under-the-table work I could find. Jobs that paid cash meant employers who didn’t ask questions, which usually meant employers who weren’t exactly following labor laws either.

But then I’d found this place. Found Lark, who’d been desperate enough for help to pay cash without too many questions. Found this shed that almost felt like…

No. I couldn’t think of it as home. Home was dangerous. Home meant staying still long enough for him to find me.

The darkness outside the small window had that particular quality that meant dawn was coming soon. Good. I needed to get moving anyway, get off the property before the sun came up. Before Beckett noticed.

Beckett. Even thinking his name made my stomach do something complicated.

He watched everything with those dark eyes, noticed things other people missed.

In the two days since Lark had left, I’d developed a routine—sneaking back here after dark, leaving before dawn, parking my car even farther down the road than usual. I couldn’t risk anything else.

The cold hit me as soon as I pushed off the sleeping bag.

October mornings in Montana had teeth. By November, December, what would it be like?

I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about where I’d be or how I’d survive sleeping in my car when snow started falling.

Because surely I wouldn’t be in this shed.

As much as I liked it here, I couldn’t stay here indefinitely.

I had to take it one day at a time. That was all I could handle.

I rolled up the sleeping bag with practiced ease, folding the two flannel shirts I’d been using as pillows.

Everything went into my backpack in a specific order—sleeping bag on bottom, clothes in the middle, the few toiletries I had left on top, where I could grab them quickly.

My wallet with my remaining cash—forty-seven dollars after what Lark had paid me—went in the inside pocket.

The knife I’d bought at a truck stop went in the outside pocket where I could reach it fast.

My stomach cramped with hunger as I pulled out my last two slices of bread and the nearly empty jar of peanut butter.

I scraped what I could onto the bread, trying not to think about how I’d need to go into town soon for more food—today or tomorrow at the latest. The thought made my chest tighten.

Town meant people. People meant cameras. Cameras meant a trail.

But forty-seven dollars and very little food meant I didn’t have a choice. I’d been sneaking in some of the horse’s apples to supplement my caloric intake, but it wasn’t enough. I was hungry all the time.

I shouldered my backpack and eased the shed door open. The hinges didn’t squeak—I’d oiled them my second night here with some WD-40 I’d found. The air outside was sharp enough to make my lungs ache. I pulled my jacket tighter and started the trek through the woods.

The mile to my car felt longer in the dark, every shadow a potential threat. My feet had memorized the path by now—left at the big pine, straight past the fallen log, right at the creek. My ancient Honda Civic sat exactly where I’d left it, tucked behind a cluster of bushes off an old logging road.

I tossed my backpack into the trunk and settled in to wait.

I couldn’t drive onto the property until full daylight, had to make it look like I was coming from town.

The story I’d given Lark was that I was staying at the Sleepy Pine Motel.

Beckett hadn’t asked but he’d watched me as I’d pulled in every day, and those sharp eyes of his said he had opinions about it.

Gray light finally bled across the sky. I turned the key, holding my breath until the engine caught.

The Civic complained but started, same as always.

Reliable even if she wasn’t pretty. I’d bought her for eight hundred cash from a guy in Idaho who hadn’t asked for paperwork.

It had wiped out most of my savings, but I thought it would be worth it in case my stalker was tracking my car electronically.

If I had a new car he didn’t know about, he couldn’t possibly be tracking it.

I’d been wrong.

The drive onto Lark’s property took five minutes. I parked in my usual spot by the barn and killed the engine. Time to pretend everything was normal. Time to be Audra the temporary farm hand, not Audra the woman running from shadows and voices.

The excited bark made me smile before I’d even gotten out of the car. Jet pressed his nose against his kennel gate, entire back end wagging. At least someone was genuinely happy to see me.

“Morning, handsome.” I unlatched his gate and got knocked back two steps when seventy pounds of excited dog slammed into my legs. “Easy, easy. I missed you too.”

Jet pranced beside me as I started morning chores.

The chickens needed feeding first, then the horses.

I mucked out stalls while Jet supervised, occasionally offering commentary in the form of playful barks.

The routine soothed something in me. Animals didn’t lie. They didn’t pretend. They just were.

“You’re good company, you know that?” I told Jet as I spread fresh hay in the last stall. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Movement near the house caught my eye. Beckett, heading toward the dog training area in the side pasture. He raised his hand in acknowledgment. I waved back, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up.

“Come on, Jet. Time for your lesson,” Beckett called out.

Jet’s enthusiasm dimmed. He pressed against my leg, looking up with those big brown eyes.

“I know, buddy. But you need to learn this stuff. Beckett knows what he’s doing.” I crouched down, rubbing his ears. “Tell you what. You be good for training, and we’ll hang out after. Deal?”

Jet licked my face, which I took as agreement. We walked over to where Beckett waited, and something shifted in Jet’s posture. As if he understood this was work time now.

“Morning,” Beckett said. His voice did things to my insides I didn’t want to examine.

“Morning. He’s all yours, ready for class.”

Beckett raised an eyebrow, obviously skeptical. Honestly, I was too. Jet got so distracted by me, the last couple days of classes had not gone well.

But Jet surprised us both. He went with Beckett without whining. Instead of his usual stubborn resistance, he actually paid attention. When Beckett said sit, Jet sat. When he said stay, Jet stayed—mostly. I watched for a little while then went back to my chores, but I had a smile on my face.

The session went better than any so far. Jet still had moments of puppy brain, but he was trying. When Beckett brought him back over afterward, Jet immediately glued himself to my side.

“He’s getting it,” Beckett said. “The key with dogs like him is consistency. They want to please, they just need clear boundaries. He’ll still never be a security K-9, but he’s definitely trainable.

Different principles for different purposes.

Jet here doesn’t need tactical training. He needs confidence and structure.”

“How’d you learn all this? The training stuff?”

“Military working dogs, initially. Then expanded from there.” He rubbed Jet’s head when the dog ventured close enough.

“Not surprised you learned in the Army. That makes sense.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His dark eyes sharpened. “How’d you know I was Army?”

Shit. I didn’t want to bring up Todd now. I kept my response vague. “I guess the way you stand. The way you watch everything. Obviously military. I guess military equals Army to me.”

To my surprise, he let out a chuckle. “Jarheads and Squids wouldn’t agree.”

“What do you do when you’re not working here?” I didn’t know why I couldn’t shut up. Asking him questions basically invited him to ask me ones in return. Ones I definitely didn’t want to answer.

“I work at Warrior Security. We provide tactical support, protection details, that sort of thing.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear that at all. But it did mean I needed to be even more careful around him.

He stretched, shoulder popping. “I’m about to shower. Meeting some of the guys from work for lunch. They give me enough grief about smelling like horse without me showing up actually smelling like horse.”

I forced a laugh. “Makes sense.” I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, not wanting to risk it again after dark. Maybe I could while he was gone.

“I’ll be using the one in the guest house, although when I’m not staying there, I use the outside shower. That’s why Lark set it up, so people had somewhere to shower without having to worry about getting the inside of a house dirty.” His tone stayed casual, but those eyes stayed sharp.

“Yeah, that’s smart.”

“Could have sworn I saw you coming back onto the property a couple nights ago to shower. You left and came back.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Oh. Yeah. I was meeting some people. Like you said, didn’t want to smell like horse.”

There were so many holes in that story. So many. Both of us knew it.

“Huh.” He studied me for a moment that felt like forever. “Well, be careful. Roads get tricky after dark. Especially if you’re tired. I’m sure Lark would tell you to just use the shower here before you leave, not to try to sneak back after dark.”

Did he know I was staying in the shed? The weight of what he wasn’t saying pressed down on me. He knew something was off. But he wasn’t pushing. Yet.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” He turned and headed toward the house.

I stood frozen until he disappeared inside. My hands shook as I pressed them against my thighs. He’d seen me. Been watching. How much did he know? How much had he figured out?

I needed to be more careful. Needed to change my routine, park somewhere different, maybe skip a few nights in the shed. The thought made my chest ache. That stupid shed with its draft and cold floor had become the closest thing to safety I’d felt in months.

But safety was an illusion. I’d learned that the hard way in Seattle, when my own apartment had become a trap. When dead roses showed up on my doorstep. When the phone calls started. When the photos appeared under my door—pictures of me at work, at the coffee shop, asleep in my bed.

An eye for an eye.

I still didn’t know what I’d done to garner the stalker’s attention. What perceived slight had triggered this obsession. I’d racked my brain for months, going through every interaction, every relationship, every random encounter with a stranger. Nothing made sense.

The burn scar throbbed. I wouldn’t touch it. Wouldn’t give in to the memory.

Jet whined, pressing against my leg. I looked down to find him watching me with worried eyes.

“I’m okay,” I lied, running my fingers through his fur. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t look convinced but stayed close as I finished the morning chores. The sun climbed higher, warming the air enough that I shed my jacket. Normal. I needed to look normal. Just a woman doing farm work, nothing to see here.

But Beckett’s words echoed in my head. He’d seen me coming back. If he’d seen that, what else had he noticed? My car disappearing some mornings? The fact that I never actually drove into town when I left?

I couldn’t leave. Not yet. The forty-seven dollars in my wallet wouldn’t get me far. I needed Lark to come back, needed that next pay period. Just a little longer.

Besides, leaving meant going back out there. Back to gas station bathrooms and sleeping with one eye open. Back to jumping at every sound and checking my rearview mirror obsessively. Back to being completely, utterly alone.

Here, at least, I had Jet. Had the animals. Had Beckett’s steady presence, even if that presence now felt more like a threat than comfort.

“I’ll figure it out,” I told Jet.

But even as I said it, I knew the clock was ticking. Beckett was suspicious. Suspicious meant questions. Questions meant scrutiny I couldn’t afford.

One way or another, my time here was running out.