Page 2 of Remade (Hillcroft Group #3)

Ryan sighed a little, and he looked wistful. “He was big on family. Always herding us together and making sure we included Lias—that’s our youngest brother. Our folks had him much later.” He showed me another photo, and this one nearly broke me all over again. “Then they adopted two sisters, Willow and Elise, and they wrapped us all around their fingers. They were about to start first grade when this was taken.”

In the picture, Dad was…well, college age, and he had one girl thrown over his shoulder, and the other was laughing and trying to save her sister. Or reaching for her anyway.

“He looks happy,” I said quietly.

Ryan nodded with a dip of his chin. “Those girls brought out his protectiveness. Hell, they had that effect on all of us. They’re autistic—and Willow, especially…she needed more help. She and Jake formed a bond. They were real close. When he was home, she wanted him to take her to school.” He cleared his throat. “A while after he’d died, Willow told us he’d leave her little notes around the house—and in her school bag—to find when he was away. Just…little warrior motivation to boost her confidence. Stand your ground, bullies are meant to be defeated, tell Ethan if anyone’s ever mean to you… Ethan got in a lot of fights in those days. He’d drive over to kids’ parents and yell at them for raising little fuckups.”

I pressed my lips together as more tears welled up.

The last photo he showed me was of Dad in combat gear, and it looked like it’d been taken overseas. Desert all around.

“He talked a lot about having his own family one day, but he never brought anyone home to our folks,” Ryan said. “I think that’s why I remember him mentionin’ your ma. It was so unlike him.” Then he let out a chuckle. “It does, however, make perfect sense that he met someone and needed several years to realize that it could be more than a fling.”

Fuck, this hurt. He should’ve realized that sooner!

Damn you, Dad.

“Did he ever live around here?” I asked hoarsely.

He shook his head. “No. He came out to see Darius, that’s all. Jake was… I don’t know, he floundered a bit. First, he wanted to be an engineer or somethin’, and then he changed his mind, quit school, and moved home to work odd jobs. Then he decided to become a teacher and went back to school.”

In the end, he’d joined the Army. He’d enlisted roughly a year after I’d been born.

“Did he join the Army because of 9/11?”

Ryan nodded once. “It was the last straw, if nothing else. He’d been thinkin’ about the Army for a while.”

I released a breath and cleared my throat.

“If you give me your number, I can send you what I have of Jake,” he said. “Just remember that each photo comes with a story, so it’s in your best interest to stay in touch frequently.”

I choked out a laugh and grinned up at him. “That has the potential to sound like a threat.”

He smirked. “Like a proper family with Catholic roots, in other words. Just wait till Ma gets to know you. She practically guilted me into moving my entire family back to Washington.”

“Really?” I snickered. It sounded like Beckett’s grandmother.

“Maybe I’m exaggerating a pinch,” he chuckled. “But she did play her part.”

I hoped she did that with me too. Not that I could see myself leaving NoVa, but I wouldn’t mind visiting their town in Washington a lot.

“Where did you live before?” I wondered.

“San Francisco,” he said. “I opened a bar there right after I separated from the Marines. I wasn’t ready to move back home, but the Bay Area climate suited me better than Pendleton.”

I could imagine. My only trip to the West Coast had been a training rotation to Fort Irwin in the middle of fucking nowhere in California. The nearest city had been Barstow.

“I was at Fort Irwin for three sweaty weeks once,” I said. “Army’s asshole.”

He laughed. “NTC before deployment?”

“I wish. I never really deployed. I had a nine-month stint in Germany because we were doing a bunch of NATO exercises, but that’s it.”

He handed me his phone after adding a new contact so I could insert my number. “Well. At the risk of bein’ a hypocrite, I’m glad you’re a peacetime soldier. I know Jake would be too. We put our folks through hell.”

Yeah, I guess.

I shrugged and returned his phone. “I don’t have a big family. I’d be perfect for long-term deployments.”

“First of all, you do now,” he said pointedly. My stomach did that fluttery thing again, when I envisioned family reunions. “Second, no siblings or cousins or…?”

I shook my head. “I have an aunt—and she’s treated me better than I probably deserve, but we don’t have anything in common. She has her own life. Book clubs, Friendsgiving, Galentine’s, cruises with her girlfriends, a ton of work…and some freaking ferret society. She loves ferrets.” I felt no need to mention my alcoholic uncle. I hadn’t seen him in years.

Ryan lifted his brows and smirked. “Whatever floats her boat.”

Pretty much. I should definitely get better at reaching out, but Aunt Laura and I had our thing. We saw each other once a month for dinner. One evening of stilted conversation and awkward silences. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t my fault. We were just so different.

“Would you mind if I start tellin’ people when I get home?” he asked. “I’m not sure I can keep my trap shut about your existence. Darius will have a field day about you becoming a Hillcroft operator.”

Shit, this was so bizarre. It was actually happening. All the Quinns were about to find out about me.

“Go ahead.” I wiped at my cheeks, hopefully for the last time. I hadn’t cried in probably two minutes, so that was great. “Why would Darius have a field day about this?”

“Because our love-hate relationship with Hillcroft runs deep,” he replied, amused. “I don’t mind these short stints. It’s a fantastic payday, and there’s always something that needs fixin’ around the house. But for Darius—this was his life for so many years. He jumped right into training back when previous military service wasn’t a requirement.” He paused as he pocketed his phone. “We both feel right at home with the shoot, shovel, and shut up policy, but it’s still a job that wears on you.”

Shoot, shovel, and shut up—that was funny. I liked that a whole lot too. And the more I got involved with Hillcroft operations, the more I realized how the US government liked to look the other way if it resulted in a problem being handled swiftly.

“I’m looking forward to working here,” I said. “Worst part of being in the Army was the…the rinse and repeat—you know? Every day looked the same. Drills here, rucks there, getting yelled at for no reason whatsoever, not being allowed to question a stupid decision— because that’s the way it is .”

Ryan grinned and shook his head. “Yeah, you sound like Darius and me. And so many others who work at Hillcroft. Plus, if one stint sucks, the next one is right around the corner.”

Exactly.

“Don’t be mistaken, though,” he went on. “There are pitfalls here too. The backbone of Hillcroft consists of security guys who guard freighters in the Gulf of Aden, mineral mining operations in Africa, and offshore oil rigs. At most, they go from Port A to Port B, fend off Chinese ‘tourists,’ and look out for environmentalists on a sabotage mission. They practically carry the agency, but it’s boring as fuck.”

My mouth twisted up, and I made a mental note. I’d had no idea—and I had read the great “History of Hillcroft,” starting with the two founders who’d met during the Congo Crisis in the early ’60s.

“You’re just full of useful information,” I said.

“Yeah…” He squinted and scratched his eyebrow. “I haven’t decided yet if that’s a good thing in your case. As your new favorite uncle, I’m inclined to want you safe—but if you’re anything like me and my brothers, it won’t matter what anyone says. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do.”

My new favorite uncle, huh?

Holy crap, I didn’t know what to do with all this freaking happiness?—

Ryan’s expression suddenly changed. He went from carefree to hardened in a fraction of a second, and he pulled out an earpiece and inserted it in his ear.

“Don’t move,” he told me quietly. “We’re not alone. Keep looking at me and use your periphery to scan your right.”

I clenched my jaw, and just like that, my head cleared. I scanned my right side as well as I could as Ryan got in touch with the others, but I didn’t see any—wait, no, there. I saw something moving between the trees. One…two people?

“We need a heat signature reading in the northeastern sector, stat. Over,” he commanded. He nodded subtly at me. “I want you to casually lean back against the tree behind you and discreetly drop your sidearm on the ground. Make sure it’s concealed.”

I pulled off a fake smile and did as told, slowly unholstering my gun and kinda hoping it didn’t go off in the drop. It slid down and thumped against the root system, and I used my foot to subtly cover the gun with leaves.

“Roger,” Ryan responded. “When did they leave the van?”

“I can see two people so far,” I muttered under my breath. They were within firing range, forty yards or so—aw, crap. “Four people.”

“It’s the men from the van,” he answered. “One of them had a cell phone and took a call about half an hour ago. Then they walked out with their hands up and begged for freedom. We were tracking them, apparently—before they reached the main road.” He went quiet and nodded absently at whatever someone was saying. “Affirmative—visibly too. Across my back.”

What, his carbine? He had his M4 there.

The four men I could see weren’t coming any closer, and my mind raced to figure out why. And whose side were they on? I fully believed they could be pawns. They were probably in the country to send money back to their families, like they’d said, which begged the question. How loyal were they to their paycheck, so to speak? Were they ordered to make a move against us? Were they trying to reach us to ask for rescue?

“Get Beckett to calm the fuck down,” Ryan griped. “It’s a good plan. I’ll let him know. Out.”

“I need to study the way operators communicate more,” I muttered. “It makes zero sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he argued. “Speak clearly and preferably with words that can’t be mistaken for something else in the same context. The use of copy, out, wilco, and so on—that’s a judgment call based on stress, how many are on the frequency, and necessity. I think the one rule outside the Hillcroft premises is saying ‘Repeat.’”

“That’s still a no-no?”

“Unless you’re looking to fire again.”

Okay, that was good, I supposed. I scratched my forehead. “All right. So what’s happening now? The men aren’t coming any closer.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He cleared his throat. “Coach says there was no way those men had access to guns in the van. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” I said. “He did a search.”

“Good. Are you up for playing bait? Chances are they won’t approach further as long as I’m here.” He flicked a pointed glance at the strap for his M4.

“Yeah, sure. I’m game.” Even though it made me a little nervous. But nerves were good, right? My first week in Operator Riggs’s class, he’d said being nervous meant your nervous system functioned as it should.

He’d added other words too, something about transmitters and responding to dangers and… Yeah. Either way.

My nervous system was very nervous.

“Was that why you wanted me to hide my gun?” I asked.

“That’s just my general rule. When you’re outnumbered, get them comfortable by looking like an ill-prepared underdog too. An arrogant enemy makes mistakes.”

That was sort of brilliant.

“And they say crayon-eaters are dumb.”

He grinned and shook his head. “We’re gonna get along just fine, you and me. Now, get ready for a hug before I go. I’m gonna slip my sidearm into one of your lower pockets—it’s the same one you have. If the van folk come over, you’ll make sure they see your empty holster. Secondly, you’re gonna take my earpiece. Three taps on the button will get you to the line where you can communicate directly with Beckett and nobody else.”

“Copy.” I nodded. “And if those men charge?”

“If they attack you, they’ve chosen their side, and they will be treated accordingly. You eliminate the threat.”

“Yessir.” I opened my lower side pocket when he hugged me, making the transfer of his gun easier, and then I took the earpiece from his ear and inserted it into my own. “How far away will you be?”

“Just down the slope, so we’re outta sight,” he replied. “Beckett, Crew, and Hudson are already there.”

Okay, that was a relief. The slope down to our makeshift camp wasn’t far away.

I felt the weight of his gun hit my pocket right before he backed away, and without another word, he was off.

I tapped the little button three times, then faked a cough in my fist. “Leighton here.”

I heard Beckett’s exhale.

“Good to hear your voice, pup. We are twenty-two yards away, and I have you in my sights. Just act like it’s two in the morning and you have fire guard, except there’s no bathroom you can jerk off in.”

I stifled a laugh and started to pace slowly, aimlessly, between two trees that were roughly ten yards apart. Which reminded me…

“Can’t we just stick to one way of measuring things?” I asked, making sure I didn’t move my lips too much. “Feet, yards, klicks, miles, meters…”

“How did that question go over in the service?” Beckett asked.

I sighed.

Ryan disappeared out of sight, and I refocused so I could keep the immigrant workers in my periphery. I really hoped they didn’t do anything stupid, because I wasn’t wired to lose my shit on those who were already lying down. The way I saw it, they were being trafficked.

I pulled out my phone in an attempt to look unprepared, and I saw I had three texts from Tanner and one from Miguel. Those would have to wait. Maybe I could change my wallpaper… I’d noticed Ryan’s background had been black. No family pictures and very few apps. But it must’ve been his private cell, considering all the photos.

At Hillcroft, we were instructed to leave as small a digital footprint as we could. No real names on social media, no pictures of ourselves…

In retrospect, it explained how private Ryan and Darius were online. The only picture I’d seen of Darius had been a grainy staff photo on his fish camp’s website. Like, thumbnail-size.

Still no movement from the workers.

I scratched my jaw. “Can I get an update on what’s happened today? I’m extremely out of the loop.”

“I can give you the recruit-friendly version,” Beckett conceded. How nice of him. “We were dealing with the Texas Hahns when we realized there was a second crew involved. Since then, we’ve learned that this crew is here permanently, and they have two locations for their drug operations—one for housing, one for drug distribution. The captain or whatever of the other crew is hiding out here. It’s our last location to take care of.”

I chewed on the corner of my lip, figuring it was the first crew’s leader Beckett was primarily after since he’d been in charge the day Vince had been killed.

“Isn’t it harder to deal with an established drug crew than some random low-men on a poorly funded mission?”

“It’s not easier,” he agreed. “We’re equipped to deal with both, though.”

“What about the top man himself?” I pressed. “I understand Karl Hahn doesn’t give two shits about Nassim or even the guy who murdered your brother, but it feels like he’d care if his US drug money suddenly stopped filling his pockets.”

“He’s welcome to file a complaint with me.”

Fuck my ass, that was hot.

“Focus now, pup. We have movement.”

I concentrated and slowed down, but the four men I could see were still not moving. “How many are there? I only see four.”

“All seven are accounted for. Three coming in slowly on your right flank.”

I rolled my shoulders and turned again, this time angling myself differently in an attempt to see the other three men.

“It looks like an attack to me,” Beckett murmured. “I am chill.” He had to be saying that to someone else, maybe Crew or Ryan or Hudson.

“They’re not armed, so there’s no rush,” I said under my breath. “Do you have a plan other than finding out if they’re friendlies or not?”

“We want their phones,” he replied. “There’s at least one.”

Fair enough.

I stretched my arms over my head and pretended to yawn, and it allowed me to get a better look when I wasn’t staring at the ground. Two of the men were approximately forty feet away, so it was time to shut up. Within the next few seconds, they’d be able to hear me.

“When do I make a show of spotting them?” I scrubbed a hand over my mouth.

“Wait until the closest are within five or six yards.”

One could also say fifteen feet, but whatever.

“Stand down until I ask for backup,” I muttered. “If you want the phones, I’ll get you the phones.”

“There are seven of them,” he grated out. I could hear Crew asking something in the background, and Beckett responded. “He wants us to stand down until he asks for backup.”

I was out of time. One of the men took a few steps away from the last tree he’d used to shield himself, and it would look suspect if I didn’t notice him.

I glanced up and stiffened as we locked eyes, and then I quickly grabbed at my nonexistent gun, alerting them to an empty holster. Now he knew I’d “forgotten” I wasn’t armed, and Ryan had been right. The man relaxed and cocked a brow, and he walked toward me.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked. “I still don’t speak Spanish. No Espanol .”

He wasn’t the older guy I’d pegged for the leader in the van. This man was younger, late twenties or so. He had a scar across his cheek, so I naturally named him Cheeks.

“Your friends?” he asked.

I pointed to my chest. “You wanna know where my friends are?”

Please pick the right side, amigo.

He nodded.

“Where are your friends?” I asked in return.

Cheeks lifted his eyebrows and pointed to the two men who were kind of close by. But what about the other four still holding back?

“They saw Quinn wander off,” Beckett reminded me. “Gesture in our direction. They’ll believe you.”

“They’re over there,” I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you need help? Do you want me to go get them?” I made a move to turn around, and that triggered a reaction.

“No, man—no, no.” He strode forward until only six or seven feet separated us, and he flashed his palms, silently cautioning. The urgency wasn’t lost on me, though. He was very intent on keeping me here alone.

“Great job,” Beckett said quietly. “You made them reveal their cards. They want you alone.”

They weren’t done revealing them either. Cheeks looked over his shoulder and spoke in rapid Spanish, and it was so clear to me that the three men were stressed out. One was a bit warier than the others, and the two speaking—and gesturing—were agitated.

“Hey, guys, do you need help?” I pressed. “Are you okay? Do you want freedom? Do you understand—freedom?”

Cheeks looked back at me, then urged his friend to come closer. The third one too. I nicknamed them Lanky and Bandana.

I repositioned myself to face them head on, and I felt my fingers twitch.

“Freedom, sí ?” Cheeks nodded and forced a smile. “America free?”

Uh.

A couple more steps. Two more, and he’d be within reach.

“Nothing’s free here, buddy,” I said.

Nerves tightened my gut, and I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline gathering up strength. It wasn’t ready to surge through me yet, but it was waiting, lurking in the shadows, holding off for the right signal.

“I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt because we want the guys in the background to come closer,” Beckett told me. “But so help me God, if you get hurt, we’re gonna have a fucking problem, you and I.”

Would you look at that. He was willing to give me a shot. I’d pay him back in blow jobs.

Wanting to get this started before one of them got spooked, I repeated my last offer. “Look, I’ll go get my friends,” I said, taking a step back.

Predictable, but it worked. The guys gave up on the charade and charged, Cheeks and Lanky reaching me first, with weak fists, poor coordination skills, and zero experience. I sucked in a breath and grabbed Cheeks’s fist, and I twisted it forcefully while I dodged Lanky, only to kick him in the stomach. Lanky flew back and shouted in Spanish, Cheeks cried out and fell to his knees, and Bandana received a fist to his nose, causing blood to spurt out.

I didn’t stop. With a grip on Cheeks’s head, I rammed my knee up into his face, then shoved him backward. You picked the wrong fucking side. Lanky was next; he charged toward me with more fear in his eyes than anything else, and I ducked and elbowed him in the liver, followed by a closed fist to the back of his head when he hurtled forward.

Adrenaline bolted through me like an addictive shock to the system, and it sharpened my senses. When Bandana came at me, I flinched toward him and stomped on Cheeks’s chest, and then I knife-handed Bandana in the throat?—

“The others are running for you,” Beckett said in a rush. “When they’re ten yards out, we’ll intervene.”

“You can’t fucking help yourself, can you?” I growled, shoving Bandana away from me. He went down, hopefully for the last time, but Lanky evidently had one more charge in him. “Beckett, I’ve got this under control.”

Oh! Lanky had a weapon. Fucking pruning shears. He should’ve used them earlier. I let out a laugh, feeling hysterical, and I flew at him.

“You came to play, huh?” I grabbed his wrist tight enough for him to lose his grip on the shears, before I twisted his arm and forced him down on his knees. “Piece of advice,” I said, out of breath. “Don’t come at me with a fucking weapon if you can’t use it.” With that said, I kicked him forward and created a pile of chess pawns that should’ve just asked us for help.

“We’re on our way,” Beckett declared.

I spun around, seeing the other four men running toward me, and I didn’t even think about it. I pulled out Ryan’s gun and took aim. Thigh…hip… One shot, two shots—fuck, missed. My heart slammed against my rib cage, and I got the third guy in his shoulder.

Numero quatro’s eyes flooded with horror, and he turned around to run away instead.

Before I could take off after him, someone—Crew. It was Crew. He ran past me so fast I barely saw it was him. He sprinted to catch up, which he’d do in seconds.

I heaved a breath and looked around me, and I couldn’t fucking hear anything.

Or feel anything. Physically. Like, I felt a throbbing sensation in my hands, but no pain.

Beckett and Ryan arrived with carbines aimed, and they inspected the men on the ground.

Deep breaths.

Jesus Christ, what was it with all the delayed reactions? I was suddenly beyond spent, and I couldn’t stop panting. I swallowed dryly and drew in a deep breath through my nose.

I flexed my fingers, and then I felt the soreness kicking in. My right hand was tingling and aching, though it wasn’t too bad. Nothing I hadn’t experienced during sparring already.

Ryan eyed me. “Don’t ever get a desk job, son.”

I huffed a breathless chuckle and scrubbed a hand over my face.

No, no desk job for me. Instead, I walked over and picked up my gun from before, and I wiped it off with my hand.