Page 67 of Unmade

Damn, he was good.

It worked on his mom. She lost the tension in her shoulders, and she grabbed the last rollaboard. “You’re right. Unlike your brother and sister, you always came to me with your troubles.”

What a load of crap. It made me curious about what she knew. I mean, with Beckett’s brother and all… There wasn’t a chance in hell she knew all the ins and outs of that operation.

“There we go,” Beckett said. “This is just me taking advantage of a situation. Plus, the world’s fucked. We can’t be careful enough.”

Alex gasped and stared accusingly at him.

“The world isscrewed,” Beckett amended. “The world is screwed—there is no gosh darn future. All hope is friggin’ lost.”

Wonderful things to tell an eight-year-old.

“Do you need a hand?” I offered.

He shook his head. “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria later. Mouse—say bye-bye, Leighton.”

“Bye-bye, Nugget!” She waved to me.

I waved too, though it suddenly felt shitty to say goodbye. This wasn’t a vacation. I had no idea when I’d see her again, and I didn’t know what to do with my free time now either. Watching her two, three hours every day wasn’t chump change.

* * *

After going back to the shooting range to make sure my stall was ready for the next person, and returning my gun to my room, I headed to the cafeteria, where the weekend staff greeted me with food I wasn’t supposed to eat much of.

Leaving the Army had been good for my stomach, ’cause fuck the DFAC’s gray stews and meat pucks that’d either given me diarrhea or constipation, but this might cause problems too. With fewer Hillcroft staff around, the kitchen crew went the extra mile for those suckers who had to work. Today was Thai food, and I was here for it.

I filled a plate with red curry and then made my way to the table I usually sat at with Alex, near the back, where it was a bit more secluded. Not that it was necessary today. I counted four people in the entire cafeteria, none of them recruits.

Tanner was home with his family for the weekend, and most of the others preferred to be elsewhere. Some were locals who could still afford their own place somehow. Some had family nearby.

I sent Aunt Laura a text while I ate, letting her know I’d come by for dinner another Sunday instead.

Beckett showed up a while later, and he grabbed some food first.

When he arrived at my table, I saw he’d opted for both the red curry and the beef stir-fry.

“The red curry’s awesome,” I said.

“It usually is.”

I chewed around a mouthful of chicken and observed him, how he tucked into his meal right away but seemed to be a million miles away. He had that furrow between his brows, and I could tell he ate on autopilot.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He stopped with his fork in midair, glanced at me, as if reminding himself he wasn’t alone at the table. Then he let out a breath and lowered the fork again, and he folded his arms on the table.

“I don’t know. Maybe. The Hahn fuckers are finally on the move again, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to do shit about it.”

There it was. The men responsible for his brother’s death had resurfaced.

“Are they coming this way, since you shipped Alex off?” I wondered.

He nodded with a dip of his chin. “We’ve been tracking a small crew since they arrived in Galveston, but after what happened with the shooter in my apartment, we stayed back. In short, we don’t believe they know much—just like the guy who broke in. So, we decided to wait until they started moving. As in, when they’d received new orders. Their destination will tell us more than capturing them for interrogation.”

Made sense, I supposed. But it must’ve been hard to know where they were and do nothing about it. Which…had been Beckett’s reality for weeks now. Hell.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat and shifted his water on his tray. “One of our operators down there reported movement the other day. He followed them to New Orleans two days ago, and yesterday, they continued to Atlanta. This morning, they were still on track to DC, so I decided to organize a quick trip for my mother and Alex.”

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