Page 10 of Unmade

The same headset woman sat behind the desk—Gina, right?—and I cleared my throat to get her attention.

“Hey, I’d like to see Bo Beckett,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but he told me to come in when I had news about something he’s involved in,” I lied.

She had the same reaction today; she lifted a brow and finally tore her gaze away from the computer.

“I’ll need a photo ID, and please look into the camera.”

I knew the drill.

Seconds later, I was sitting my ass down on one of those uncomfortable sofas, and I did a whiff check on my pits. Okay, still good. It was humid as balls today, with a storm coming in tonight. The sky was so dark that the lobby needed actual lighting.

Maybe it was a sign of my impending doom.

I’d barely slept last night, and I didn’t think it would get better tonight.

Bo turned up just a few minutes later, this time wearing utility pants and a snug Henley. The pants, and their army-green color, made me wonder if he was being deployed. Like, was that what they called it at private agencies? And did they leave in uniforms? Probably not, right? They had to blend in and stuff.

He smirked a little as he walked closer. “What did we say about lying, kiddo?”

I had a defense for that. “I’m convinced I’ll be turned away if I admit I don’t have an appointment.”

Man, he was gorgeous. Out-of-this-fucking-world hot. If he was gay and I had bigger balls, he’d be turning me down right now and saying I was too young for him.

He chuckled and sat down across from me. “Fair enough. What is it this time?”

Oh, just some questions from a nervous guy who’d possibly made the worst mistake of his life.

“Did you find your dad’s family?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I answered. “My aunt is helping me.”

“All right…”

Right. Moving on. I took a breath and did my best to relax, which wasn’t easy when it felt like I had a brick in my stomach.

“You were in the Army before, right?” I mean, he’d mentioned basic training.

“I was.” He inclined his head.

“Were you stationed at Benning?”

His forehead wrinkled slightly, as if he was wondering where I was going with this. “Yeah, the first few years.”

Okay. Yeah. Confirmed. “I enlisted,” I admitted. “I’ll be there too. I just went through MEPS the other week.”

That made his eyebrows lift a fraction, and I could practically read his mind. He thought I was gonna fail. I didn’t belong there. And he was right. I’d fucked up.

Oh God, what had I done?

“How quickly do you think I’ll fail?” I asked.

He didn’t miss a beat. “With that attitude, probably on day two. I trust you can survive the first hundred yards training on day one.”

That was…about the only thing I was good at, though only on flat surfaces. I was weirdly fast—when I didn’t trip.

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