Page 11 of Beckett
Did he know Todd had a sister who used to laugh at his terrible jokes and steal his fries and text him random memes just to make him smile during long shifts?
Did he know Todd was gone?
The darkness pressed in, familiar as breathing now. But for once, it felt less like being hunted and more like being hidden. I curled into my sleeping bag.
Tomorrow, I’d do it all again. Work. Hide. Survive.
But tonight, for the first time in months, I had walls around me and a plan that might actually work. And if I dreamed about steady hands and storm-gray eyes and the kind of calm I’d forgotten existed—well.
No one had to know that either.
Chapter 4
Beckett
The morning sun painted Pawsitive Connections in shades of gold and green, the kind of peaceful scene that belonged on postcards. I’d been up since five, unable to shake the habit of predawn wake-ups even two years out of the military. Coffee steam curled from my mug as I watched Lark race between buildings, her movements quick and frantic.
“Beck, did you check the medication schedule for Fernando?” She appeared in the barn doorway, clipboard clutched against her chest. “He needs his anti-inflammatory at noon, not eleven like I wrote yesterday. And make sure Duke gets his allergy pill with peanut butter, not cheese—he’s been having digestive issues.”
“I know.” I kept my voice steady, patient. “Same routine as last month when you went to that fundraiser.”
“Right. Of course.” She pushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, then immediately pulled it free again. Her nervousenergy filled the space between us. “And the cats—make sure Princess Whiskers gets the filtered water. She won’t drink tap.”
“Already changed it out this morning.”
“Oh. Good. That’s good. I’m not sure Audra can remember everything.” She flipped through pages on her clipboard, scanning lists she’d already memorized. “The delivery comes Thursday. Dog food, cat litter, hay. The invoice is in the office filing cabinet under ‘Pending.’ They’ll want payment on delivery, cash or check from the blue folder?—”
“Lark.” I set down my mug, crossing my arms. “I’ve got it. Everything’s handled.”
She looked up at me, and I saw it then—the real fear underneath all the fussing. This place was her whole world. Her animals, her sanctuary, her purpose. Two weeks away might as well have been two years.
“I know you do. I just…” She gestured helplessly at the property around us. “This is the longest I’ve been away from them. Ever. What if something happens? What if?—”
“Nothing’s happening on my watch.” The words came out harder than intended, carrying weight I hadn’t meant to add. But promises meant something to me. Maybe too much.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction. “Hunter knows you’re here? That you might not be available?”
“Hunter’s aware. We’re keeping my workload light the next two weeks.” Hunter Everett ran Warrior Security like he’d run military ops—with contingencies for contingencies. “If something big comes up where they need all hands, Jada offered to cover here.”
That got a small smile from her. “Jada’s good with the animals. Especially since she got those kittens.”
“And if Jada can’t help, then it’ll be Evelyn. Or Lena. Cori will put her vet practice on hold and rush over. Nobody at RestingWarrior is letting these animals go without. You know that. You can focus on your conference.”
She nodded, but her gaze drifted past me toward the barn. I followed her line of sight and spotted Audra mucking out stalls, her movements efficient despite the exhaustion written in every line of her body.
“About Audra…” Lark’s voice dropped, taking on that careful tone she used when approaching touchy subjects. “I set up a payment arrangement with her. She’ll get paid when I get back. But if she decides to leave before then—” Lark paused, watching my face “—could you pay her for the hours she’s worked? I’ll reimburse you as soon as I’m home.”
“You think she’ll run?”
“I think she might.” Lark’s fingers worried at the corner of her clipboard. “She’s skittish. Reminds me of the rescue dogs we get sometimes. The ones that have been hurt bad enough they can’t quite believe the pain’s really over.”
I studied Audra through the barn’s open doors. She worked steadily, never looking up, never pausing. But I caught the way she positioned herself—always facing the entrance, never letting anyone get between her and the exit. Classic defensive positioning. The kind you learned through hard experience.
“She could be playing you.” The words tasted bitter but needed saying. “Sob story, cash payments, no questions asked. It’s a good setup for someone looking to take advantage.”
Lark’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in her eyes. A shadow of her own past, maybe. Stories she’d never told. “Maybe. Or maybe she just needs someone to give her a chance without asking for explanations she can’t give.”
“That’s dangerous thinking.”
