Page 66 of Unmade

“Nugget, I’m going on vacation!” Alex exclaimed.

I lifted my brows. “Oh yeah? Where are you off to?”

She beamed up at me. “I’m going with Grandma to see Auntie Kat and Uncle Eric in San Diego.”

Oh shit. I’d expected to hear about an overnight trip in this area instead of the half-day outings Beckett took Alex on most weekends. San Diego was a bit more than that.

“Damn. When’re you leaving?” I glanced toward Beckett.

He checked his watch. “They’re wheels up in two hours, so we gotta step on it, mouse.”

Alex grabbed my hand. “Come meet my grandma! She’s upstairs.”

Wait, wheels up in two hours? They were cutting it awfully close.

I let Alex drag me to the doorway. “Two hours seems tight.”

“They’re not flying commercial,” was Beckett’s response.

Not flying commercial… Was something wrong? I assumed that meant they were flying private—or rather, on a Hillcroft plane. Operator Hyatt had told us about their small fleet of planes and helicopters.

“Is something going on?” I asked under my breath.

He shook his head subtly, indicating now wasn’t the time, and we reached the elevators.

I hoped the time was right once Alex was out of here, because I wanted to know.

The only reason Beckett would ship Alex and his mother off was if it’d become too dangerous for them here.

Right?

I did my best to give Alex my attention on the way upstairs. She was excited to see how Auntie Kat and her cousins had settled in on the West Coast. Well, not in those words. She wanted to see their new house, and apparently they had a big trampoline in the backyard.

Alex giggled and went on. “Uncle Eric bought it so my cousins would stay outside more and not bother the grown-ups with all the moving boxes.”

The elevator doors opened, and I answered absently. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast, Lemon.”

We didn’t have to walk far into the lobby to spot who I presumed was Beckett’s mother. She was in her late sixties or so, and she had three pieces of luggage with her. Also, poor her for giving birth to men like Beckett. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall, and she looked kinda frail.

She sighed with relief the moment she saw Beckett and Alex. “You said two minutes, son. You were gone for at least seven.”

“Sorry, Ma.” Beckett picked up two of the rollaboards. “This is Leighton, by the way. He’s been watching Alex a lot.”

Mrs. Beckett smiled politely and extended a hand, so I shook it. “Of course—Alex has spoken fondly about you.”

I smiled too. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beckett.”

Alex had mentioned her more than once too. Grandma used to be “sad much more before,” but now she was starting to improve. Having supper once a week together had morphed into two or three times a week, plus going out for ice cream a couple times.

“I’m just gonna say this now, okay?” Beckett said. “When you land in LA, a man named Crew Finlay will meet up with you and drive you all the way down to Kat and Eric’s. He might also go by Crew Mercier. I’m not sure. But don’t go wander off, all right? If he’s late, you’ll wait for him—and he’ll show you an ID badge from JATE Shield. It’s our sister agency on the West Coast.”

Mrs. Beckett shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. “Aren’t you driving us to the airport?”

“I have work, remember? But Em’s gonna take you—you know him. He’s waiting in the garage in the next building. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have two junior operators on the plane.”

Mrs. Beckett suddenly looked worried. “You’re sure nothing is wrong? It’s a lot of safety measures for a visit to the West Coast.”

Beckett pulled off a smile so charming that even I almost bought his bullshit. “Ma, if something was wrong, don’t you think I would’ve told you? When could I ever keep a secret from you? You’re just hitching a ride because we have people flying out anyway.”

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