Page 80 of Unmade

Another breath gusted out of him, and he hung his head. “He started doing the same thing, but he wasn’t as subtle about it. I told him numerous times—I swear. It’s the only time I thought he made a poor decision.” He swallowed and pulled out the chair next to him, and he slumped down in it. “He became more careful, to his credit, but he had one specific tattoo on his shoulder blade where, if you looked up close, you could make out coordinates.”

Shit.

I sat down next to him and just listened.

“It’s one thing if you have dozens of coordinates blending together,” he said. “But just one? It’s a direction for the enemy.”

“So, someone saw your brother’s tattoo?” I guessed.

He nodded with a dip of his chin, and he pulled something out of his pock…oh. The pack of cigarettes his brother used to smoke. Beckett actually lit one up and took a drag from it.

I was probably fucked in the head, but it was hot. As long as he didn’t do it often.

“I was right with my theory, by the way,” he said quietly. “He and I were followed for two days, a week before he died. They have a bunch of photos of us, mostly him. There’s a series of pictures of Vince washing up next to a car that we slept in outside of Mogadishu. Three or four close-ups of his back.”

Of the ink, more precisely, I assumed.

“How do you know?” I murmured.

He blew out some smoke and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Because one of our operators found them in Fredericksburg about three hours ago.”

Fredericksburg, as in…like just south of DC? “You mean here in Virginia?”

He inclined his head. “Here’s where bad becomes worse.” He tilted his head toward me. “The Hahn associates we tracked from Texas aren’t alone. They met up with another crew in Fredericksburg, and we have no idea how long they’ve been here. What we do know is that the location of those coordinates is a run-down property owned by my brother, and these fuckers have had access to it. This is a house I didn’t even know existed.”

Holy fuck. “How could you not know about the house? When he died, wouldn’t someone in the family inherit it?”

“It’s not in his name,” he replied. “It’s not supposed to be. We’re always encouraged to have a safehouse or two, and Hillcroft can help us set up shell companies and whatnot to ensure they can’t be traced to our identities. So I assume no one has a fucking clue who to contact about that property. And we can’t waltz in right now, because the Hahns are watching it. They’ve been inside. Chances are they found my address there—it would make sense.”

I blew out a breath and averted my gaze. This was so fucked up.

Beckett’s anger toward his brother was kinda justified, but I bet he was relieved a damn tattoo hadn’t actually gotten Vince killed. That might’ve been too much to deal with. But yeah, it seemed the ink was the reason the Hahns suddenly knew so much about Beckett.

I looked back to him. “If they did find your address there, isn’t it safe to assume they haven’t been there too long?”

“We’re estimating a couple months, at least,” he confirmed. “On the plus side, any information they’ve gotten their hands on in that house is older than a year. It means I don’t have to freak out about them knowing where my sister lives. But it also means I’m not letting Alex and my mother come home until this shit’s been put to rest.” He flicked away some ashes and took another pull from the smoke. “We’ll know more tomorrow morning. We have Intel running searches on the footage we have so far, and we won’t lose them this time. Three operators are on-site, and we have drones in the air.”

I cocked my head. “How many are there? The Hahns.”

“Eight that we know of. Three came from Texas, and they met up with five others at a safehouse,” he replied. “We should know soon how long they’ve rented that place. It’ll give us a better time frame.”

Three operators, eight enemies, drones…? And two locations to watch, the safehouse the Hahns were renting, as well as this mystery house left behind by Vince.

“And how much have the operators actually seen? They must’ve gotten close to find those photos, right?”

“We’ve been inside their safehouse,” he answered. “We can’t say the same about Vince’s place. It’s outside of town in an open area, so we’re gonna have to approach tomorrow night.”

The way he said that… “Are you going down there?”

He nodded. “I’ll get on the road first thing in the morning.”

Fuck.

Even though Fredericksburg was just an hour or so away from here, he was technically being deployed, and I had no idea how long he’d be gone. Just like Alex. Ihatednot knowing that.

I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering how much more he could divulge. “Do you know how long my instructor will be neglecting his recruits?”

He chuckled and stood up, then went over to the ashtray. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”

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