Page 70 of Beckett
“No buts. You’ve been trying to handle this alone for a year, and where has it gotten you? Sleeping in your car, running out of money, running out of places to hide. That ends now.”
“I can’t ask you to?—”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling you. You’re staying.”
“People will get hurt.”
“People might get hurt if you leave, too. What happens when he follows you to the next town? To the next person who shows you kindness? At least here, you have trained professionals who know how to handle threats.”
She was wavering. I could see it in the way her shoulders had dropped slightly. The exhaustion was winning against the fear.
“Audra.” I made my voice as gentle as I could manage, fighting against every instinct that wanted to grab her and never let go. “You’re exhausted. You’re scared. You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. Let us help. Let me help.”
“Why?” The question came out as barely a whisper. “Why do you care so much?”
There were a hundred ways to answer that. Because her brother had been my friend, had saved my ass more than once overseas. Because she’d gotten under my skin in ways I hadn’t expected, hadn’t wanted, couldn’t resist. Because watching herwith Jet, seeing her slowly start to trust, had awakened something in me I’d thought died with Rodriguez.
Because I was falling in love with her, and the thought of her out there alone made me want to burn the world down.
But what I said was, “Because everyone deserves to feel safe. And because you’ve got people here who care about you. Lark. Jet.” I paused. “Me.”
She looked up at me then, really looked at me, and I could see her walls crumbling brick by brick. Could see the moment she stopped fighting against the terrible weight of carrying this alone.
“Trust me,” I said. “Trust my team. We know what we’re doing. We can keep you safe while we figure out who this bastard is and how to stop him.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can and I will.” I let some of that cold rage leak into my voice, just enough for her to know I meant every word. “This bastard thinks he can terrorize you into running forever. He’s wrong. My team and I have handled worse threats than some coward who hides in shadows and leaves pictures on cars. We know how to hunt. We know how to protect. And we’re very, very good at both.”
She was crying now, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of running.”
The words gutted me. I knew that weariness. It had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the bone-deep fatigue that came from constantly looking over your shoulder. From never feeling safe. From carrying fear like a second skin.
“Then stop. Stay here. Let us help you handle this.”
She stood there for a long moment, body trembling with exhaustion and fear and something that might have been hope. I watched her fight with herself, watched her try to find one more reason to run, one more excuse to keep carrying this alone.
I watched the moment she gave up. The moment she chose to trust.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
Chapter 23
Beckett
The Warrior Security office had always felt like a sanctuary to me—reinforced walls, bulletproof glass, state-of-the-art security systems. A place where threats could be assessed and neutralized with tactical precision.
But I’d known it would intimidate Audra—too many exits to watch, too many strangers who’d seen combat, too much controlled violence barely contained beneath professional exteriors. I should have thought to bring Jet, but I’d been too focused on getting her somewhere safe to think about what would make herfeelsafe.
I watched her shoulders curl inward as we walked through the entrance, every muscle tense, her eyes darting to locate exits and blind spots.
The conference room’s leather chairs creaked as my team filed in, each man moving with purpose. Coop had beaten us here, despite living across town. Aiden arrived next, his massive frame filling the doorway before he folded himself intoa chair with surprising grace. Hunter came last, and the air shifted when he entered. This was his domain, his team, and the protective energy radiating from him could have choked someone.
“Travis, you with us?” Hunter’s scarred fingers tapped the table twice—his tell for concern.
The largest monitor flickered to life, revealing Travis in what had to be the same black T-shirt he’d worn to our last three virtual meetings. Empty energy drink cans littered his desk like fallen soldiers. His hair hung past his eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t seen sunlight in months. Which he probably hadn’t.
“I’m here.” His audio was crystal clear despite the distance. “Beck said code red.”
