13. Beckett
Chapter 13
Beckett
It’s late, and the workshop light spills across the gravel like liquid gold, carving shadows where I stand watching George work.
Two days ago, I told her the real reason I was here. George’s anger was understandable. But she softened once I opened up about my past and my concerns for her safety.
Not all at once—this is George, after all. She didn’t let me off the hook that easily. But the edge in her voice dulled. She stopped bristling when I hovered too close, stopped frowning when I asked her to be careful.
I look at her now, bent over the engine, grease smudged across her jaw, mouth tilted in the barest hint of a smile. She’s focused, sharp, gorgeous without trying, and completely unaware of how deeply she’s burrowed under my skin.
The urge to walk over, to touch her and feel her warmth, is overwhelming. My feet are already moving when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I check the screen, expecting a routine update from Emmett, but my gut twists when I read his message.
Got something on your deputy. Call me. Not pretty.
I ease away from the workshop and find a quiet spot behind the barn, dialing Emmett as I go.
“Tell me,” I say.
“Your deputy?” Emmett’s voice is low and tense. “He’s got a different name in Tennessee. And Beck? It ain’t pretty.”
I move deeper into the shadows, eyes drifting back toward the workshop where George is still bent over the hood of the truck, oblivious.
“Two complaints of excessive force against women, both mysteriously dropped. One ex with a restraining order who suddenly left town. And get this: a sealed complaint from a fellow officer filed before he transferred out.”
My spine goes rigid. “No one else found this before?”
“No one was looking until now,” Emmett replies. “I had to use old military backchannels and cross-reference sealed personnel files from two counties. He buried it deep. But I dug him up.”
My free hand curls into a fist. “And now he's here. With his sights set on George. He must have a fucking death wish if he thinks he can manipulate her right under her father’s nose.”
“Predators like Marcus Wade are experts at blending in and manipulating authority figures. That’s part of their pathology,” Emmett says. “He's probably banking on Lucas being too emotionally compromised or distracted to see the threat. That's the blind spot Wade exploits.”
He pauses. “But you? You’re the wildcard. He probably thinks you’re just another hot ranch hand passing through.”
His chuckle is wry, but there's no humor in it. “Listen, I’m not sending this shit electronically,” he continues, more serious now. “Too risky. It's all hard copy, and I don’t trust anyone else with it.”
“Where?” I ask, already knowing.
“The Honey Pot. Use the side entrance. I want this quiet.”
It’s a two-hour drive to Silverpaw Hollow. An hour or two to go through what he’s found. Two hours back. I hesitate because leaving George right now feels like cutting the wrong wire with a timer ticking.
“I don’t like being away from her this long,” I admit.
“Then lock it down before you leave. Make sure she’s somewhere safe,” Emmett says. “Because the system won't stop him, Beck. You'll have to.”
I nod even though he can’t see me.
Emmett’s right. I recognized the possessive, dangerous look in Wade’s eyes the first time I laid eyes on him. His pleading tactics with George reeked of coercion. Classic abuser behavior.
He thinks his badge is armor. That his charm buys silence. That no one sees him coming.
But I see him.
And I’m going to collect the proof to make damn sure everyone else sees him too.
I thank Emmett and end the call, the need to protect George burning through my veins like wildfire.
But George is stubborn and brilliant and would throat-punch me for assuming she needs saving. She survived before me; she'll survive after.
The thought of “after” twists painfully in my chest. When did she become necessary?
What I feel for George is powerful and unexpected. And for a man who has built his life on discipline, it’s like plummeting into the unknown.
How do I tell George that the man with a badge and her father's trust is a predator without sending her running—from him, from me, from whatever this is between us that feels like falling and flying at once? How do I tell her that I've fallen for her harder than I meant to? That being with her makes me want impossible things?
I stare at the phone, then dial the sheriff's number. Despite Emmett’s doubts about law enforcement’s ability to handle this, he needs to know my suspicions. I need to give him the opportunity to handle this the right way.
Sheriff Lucas answers on the third ring. “Lawson.” His voice carries the weight of authority even at this hour. “Something better be on fire.”
“Not yet,” I reply, keeping my tone even despite the tension coiling inside me. “We need to talk about your deputy. I've come across information you can't ignore.”
“Information?” The word stretches between us, cautious and measured. “From where exactly?”
“A reliable source who specializes in finding what others want buried.” I watch George cleaning up her tools, each movement precise and practiced. “Your Deputy Wade? He's got a history. The kind that should have kept him from ever wearing a badge.”
A beat of silence. When Lucas speaks again, there's a defensive edge to his words. “You expect me to act on some mysterious tip from one of your... connections?”
“I expect you to listen when someone tells you there's a wolf among your sheep, Sheriff.” My grip tightens on the phone. “Especially when that wolf has his sights set on your daughter.”
“This contact of yours”—the sheriff's voice hardens—“is he legal?”
“The information is solid.”
“That's not what I asked.” Papers shuffle in the background. Sounds like he’s pulling a late one at the office. “Look, I appreciate your... concern. But I can't act on information obtained through questionable means.”
“Sheriff, with respect, this isn't about how I obtained this information. It's about protecting your daughter.”
“My daughter?” His voice sharpens. “What does George have to do with this?”
Everything I want to say.
Instead, I say, “Wade has a pattern. Young women. He gets close and gains their trust. Then they either leave town suddenly or...” I let the silence fill in the rest.
“These are serious accusations, Lawson.”
“Yes, sir, they are. Which is why you need to pull him off duty. Now.”
“You think I don’t know my own team? Marcus is like family. He’s solid, never given me any reason to doubt him.”
Of course Wade’s never given him a reason. That’s how predators work. They don’t come snarling and baring teeth. They come with easy smiles and good manners, wearing trust like a uniform. They blend in. They manipulate. They make you doubt your instincts until it's too late.
“He’s hiding in plain sight,” I say, my voice low. “And if you keep him on duty, it’s not just a mistake, it’s a risk. To your department. To George.”
There’s a long pause. A shift in his breathing, like he’s caught between instinct and denial.
“Look, I know you care about George,” he finally says. “But unless you’ve got something concrete, proof I can hold in my hands, my options are limited.”
“I’m getting that proof now. But if something happens to her before I get back…” My voice drops into something cold and certain. “You won’t get the chance to regret it. If you don’t do something, I will.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, sir. It's a warning.”
“You’re asking me to doubt a man I trust, a man I’ve worked alongside for six years and who’s had my back on numerous occasions. So until I see that proof with my own eyes, we have nothing to talk about.”
The line goes dead.
Fuck!
I yank the phone away from my ear, staring at the blank screen like I can will the sheriff back onto the line. But it’s done. He’s chosen denial over action—for now.
I clench my jaw, every muscle tight with frustration. I get it. I do. Loyalty is a hell of a thing to set aside, especially when it’s wrapped in years of shared service. But trust doesn’t mean a damn thing when it’s built on a lie.
Wade’s been playing a long game. And if he finds out I’m onto him, who knows what he’ll do?
Movement catches my eye—George walking toward me.
She stops at the edge of the shadows, arms crossed. “You're lurking.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you checking up on me?”
Yes. Always.
She steps closer, close enough that I can smell engine grease and the hint of sweetness that's uniquely her. “You going to tell me what's got you prowling around in the dark?”
“You should stay at the ranch tonight.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Something’s come up. I don’t have all the pieces yet, but I will once I meet with my contact. I’ll be back by morning. Please… don’t be alone tonight.”
She studies me. “Does this have something to do with the sabotage?”
“It’s connected to something bigger,” I say carefully. “But I won’t know how deep it runs until I get my hands on the files.”
Her brow furrows. “And you’re going after them now? Tonight?”
“I have to. My contact found things no one else has been able to dig up. It’s not something he’s willing to send over a wire.”
Her expression sharpens with understanding. “So he wants you to come in person.”
I nod. “I’ll be gone most of the night.”
She crosses her arms tighter. “And you want me to hide at the ranch while you go charging off?”
“I want you with people I trust,” I say. “Angus is there. Henry and Tom, too. You won’t be alone.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself?”
“No,” I say softly. “I think you shouldn’t have to.”
Her gaze catches on mine. Flickers. Softens. “You’re serious about this.”
“As a heart attack.”
She exhales slowly, searching my face for the thing I’m not saying.
“I trust you,” she says finally. “But you better promise me you’re coming back and that you’ll tell me everything.”
That lands somewhere deep in my chest.
I step forward, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m coming back, George. And I promise.”
She nods, but her voice is rough when she answers. “Then go get what you need.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a second too long before I turn to leave because if I stay any longer, I won’t go at all.
This isn’t about a favor for a friend anymore. Hasn’t been for a while. It’s about a future. Hers and mine.
George doesn’t have time to wait for her father to take action.
So I’ll do what I was trained to do: bypass the noise. Neutralize the threat.
Wade won’t see me coming. And when he does, it’ll be too late.
Because if there’s one thing being a SEAL taught me, it’s how to hunt in the dark.
Tonight, I’m not Beckett.
I’m Shadow.