Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
August 7th, 2024
Bo Beckett
I yawned and sat down with my coffee just as Riggs entered the holy haven of vending machines. It was usually the one room in the basement where we found recruits when they weren’t in class, but right now, I was the only one here. One round table surrounded by wall-to-wall vending machines with candy, chips, coffee, protein snacks, soda, and shitty sandwiches.
“I thought you were done for the day,” he said, walking over to the sandwich machine.
“I’m taking the last of the recruits over to the Towers,” I said. And…I was also curious to find out how target practice had gone. It was the first assessment, so it was more about Danny and Coach determining their skill levels.
Riggs sat down across from me and made a face as he opened his egg and turkey sandwich. “I heard they did well at target practice.”
Most of them. Only three had excelled, though. Leighton and Tanner had been cleared right away, so now they’d need to attend a weekly session for advanced training, which included getting practice with more types of weapons. The weapon of your enemy is one you need to know and all that. Lastly, Miguel Flores, our eldest recruit. But he was to be expected. He was a former Delta and had a lengthy list of skills already. The first seven months of our training year were going to be a walk in the park for him.
“We usually have half the class moving on to the next stage,” I noted.
Riggs shrugged and bit into his sandwich. “We can’t be picky with peacetime generations.”
That much was clear.
“You do know the cafeteria’s still open, right?” I had to put that out there.
He grimaced again. “I’m trying to avoid David. It’s his last day.”
Ah. So that was it, then. The divorce was final, and David was heading off to his new employment in the UK.
“Never get involved with a fellow operator,” he muttered.
Yeah, no. I’d seen it too many times. Fuck that nonsense. I wanted to extend it to, don’t get involved with anyone in the workplace, whether they were operators or not.
“Leighton!” I heard someone holler down the hall.
I took a swig of my coffee and hoped Leighton and his dorm unit arrived soon. It shouldn’t take that long for them to pack up their shit.
I identified the other recruit as Tanner Kelley, and their voices came closer. Tanner was a chatty little shit, already declared the class clown.
“I’m putting you on a list,” he was saying.
“Uh, I don’t wanna be on a list,” Leighton replied.
Riggs snorted softly, and I smirked.
“It’s a mental list,” Tanner assured. “I was promised a Pride fest when I arrived, but so far, I’ve only encountered two others who are gay.”
What the fuck? Had the kid walked around and asked if people were gay?
We had plenty of those at Hillcroft. Our boss had once been assaulted for his sexuality, so when he took over Hillcroft with TJ, they made sure recruits knew we were all for inclusivity. And considering how sexuality was treated in the military, it was safe to say we were overrepresented in that area. If Hillcroft had approximately three hundred employees, about twenty percent of them fell under the LGBTQ umbrella.
Rough estimate. It wasn’t like we asked. You just picked up on stuff over the years.
“I’m guessing I’m not wrong about you,” Tanner hedged. “You did call Coach hot the other day in the showers.”
I frowned.
“So is a Hot Pocket,” Leighton responded. “Where are you going with this?”
“You know…it’s good to have guys you can blow off steam with,” Tanner said. “Let’s face it, I’m never gonna be able to flirt the pants off Operator Riggs, so…”
I lifted my brows and grinned at Riggs, who scowled and bit a chunk off his disgusting sandwich.
“That fuckin’ kid,” he muttered with his mouth full.
“I might as well get used to having fuck buddies instead,” Tanner finished. “Are you interested?”
Jesus. The kid was shameless.
“No. I’m not here to fuck around,” Leighton replied.
Attaboy. Focus on work. Focus on training.
The two were almost at the vending machine room, and I heard Tanner sigh heavily.
“You’re off the list, man.”
A couple beats later, they appeared in the doorway, and Tanner widened his eyes in surprise. Leighton’s expression was always schooled, even when he didn’t know who he’d find waiting in a room, so I was looking forward to a day that changed. Something was definitely off with that boy.
Riggs flicked a glance at the doorway but said nothing.
“Heh. Hi, gorgeous.” Tanner gave him a chin-nod.
I furrowed my brow. “That’s not how you address your superiors, recruit.”
“My bad.” The kid turned to contrition, realizing this wasn’t a good time to push the envelope. “Even off the clock? Training’s over.”
“Even then,” I confirmed. “You should also know that voices carry in these hallways.”
Tanner chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Noted. I’ll, uh…I’ll just go fuck myself. Bye!” With that, he hightailed it out of here.
Riggs shook his head to himself and finished his sandwich.
Leighton smiled faintly down the hall before turning back to me, and by then, his pinch of mirth was wiped from his face.
“The others asked me to let you know they’re waiting in the lobby, sir,” he said.
Fair enough. I nodded with a dip of my chin and rose from my seat. “See you tomorrow, buddy.” I threw away my coffee cup, and Riggs nodded once before I walked out with Leighton.
He threw his duffel over his shoulder.
I should probably check in on Riggs tonight, maybe give him a call or shoot him a text. Possibly suggest a beer for the weekend. Because if David was leaving, it couldn’t be an easy time. As far as I knew, Riggs had stayed in the condo they’d shared, and I couldn’t imagine that. All those memories…? Then again, I couldn’t imagine living with someone even if we were dating either. Much to Kristen’s disappointment. Although, I was sure it was morphing into relief. I was a shit boyfriend these days.
Either way, Riggs was one of those men who had to be dragged into counseling after an op, which I could relate to. He didn’t open up easy. He was a few years older than me and ten times more of a recluse. He had a kid in high school, but other than that, he’d never mentioned any family.
He’d been close with my brother.
Leighton and I went into one of the elevators, and he asked where the closest grocery store was.
I scratched my jaw. “I usually go to the Harris Teeter behind the Macy’s. There’s a Costco near there too.”
“Thanks. I can’t remember the last time I cooked.”
Ah. And now he’d have a kitchen at my place. “Recruits still get dinner in the cafeteria if you don’t wanna make something.”
Actually, anyone at Hillcroft could get dinner; it just needed to be preordered to prevent waste. But the general rule was that the cafeteria closed at seven.
“Or you can get Hot Pockets,” I said.
He side-eyed me and snorted under his breath.
I smiled and watched the number tick above the doors.
It was a short ride, one floor up, and Leighton responded as we left the elevator.
“Don’t worry, sir,” he said. “I called you hot in the showers too.”
I grinned and let out a chuckle. Good to see he had a sense of humor buried in his indifference.
“In my biased opinion, way hotter than Coach,” I replied.
He smirked a little. “Agreed.”
All right, then. I was telling Coach later.
I stood a little taller and aimed for the other recruits waiting by the exit. Miguel had a similar duffel to Leighton, and Oliver and Riley had opted for the Hillcroft-provided seabags.
“Follow me, guys,” I said, heading out. Follow the guy Leighton thinks is hotter than Coach.
Maybe I’d needed that ego boost today, even if it’d been said in jest to some degree. Moreover, it’d been delivered by the right person, seeing as he’d unknowingly ruined half my morning after his post-run display of abs. My two donuts and I hadn’t felt awesome.
To my credit, it wasn’t my fault. With Danny throwing recruit training and mentoring at me, Shira and Coach benching me from my own assignment, and Doc clearing me for work but not really , I was stuck in a limbo where I didn’t train as hard as I should.
I had to change that. Maybe Alex could run around in the gym while I worked out, because everyone wanted a kid there.
I was fucked one way or another.
We crossed the plaza in front of Hillcroft, and the sun poked out from between angry clouds. The humidity was off the charts, and?—
“Operator Beckett.” Miguel walked up next to me. “Can I ask why I wasn’t assigned to the private unit? I have nothing in common with these kids.”
“That’s why,” I told him. “I get where you’re coming from, but the one problem we always have with older recruits is their inability to connect with the younger ones—which is fundamental for teamwork exercises. And frankly, they need more people to look up to.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Show them the way instead of keeping to yourself.”
He frowned but said nothing, and he fell behind with the others. Or two of them; it seemed Leighton was up next.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he admitted. “If it’s gonna cause problems, I can share with others.”
“My choice wasn’t random, Leighton,” I replied. I stopped at the red light and looked around. Hobbs Circle hugged a park area where I snuck out to have my lunch every now and then, and Lincoln Towers was on the other side. “Right now, you’re the only one who has private counseling with Doc, and that’s personal affairs. I chose you for my apartment because it’s up to you to decide what you divulge when your schedule differs from the others’.”
I remembered very well how much you stood out when you lived the barracks life and had an appointment. Some nosy fuckers would always ask where you’d been.
“Oh. Thanks.” He chewed on his lip.
The light changed, and I walked again.
He stayed next to me as we rounded the park, but he didn’t speak.
Ironically, I hated my own sessions with Doc, but I hoped they’d do wonders for Leighton. It was damn near impossible to read him, and I wasn’t even sure there was much to read in the first place. If he was carrying around insecurities and doubts about anything, I bet he had those buried deep. If anything, he seemed blank. Losing his mother and not having a dad around must’ve been incredibly traumatic, and joining the Army right after…? I could only guess. He may have dealt with some of it, as he’d mentioned, but I knew how the service worked. I knew how suppression worked. Sometimes, it made you lose sight of who you were.
It only reminded me of how I was fucking shit up for my niece. Alex had been dealt the same cards, only she was even younger.
Kat was right. We had to drag Ma out of mourning. She had to be there for Alex too.
Once we got to the left-side tower, we took the elevator up to the thirteenth floor, where I showed Miguel, Oliver, and Riley the one-bedroom they were gonna share. The bedroom had two twin beds, and the living room area had a sofa bed. Kitchen there, bathroom there, and due to the situation, there’d be no inspection on Tuesdays and Fridays. We’d get back to that once the dorms had been cleared again.
“Just ensure you leave enough time to have breakfast before class,” I said. “You can cook and eat here if you want, but I’d advise you to eat in the cafeteria since that’s free.”
“This is awesome,” Oliver said, opening the fridge. “I’mma go buy Monster.”
Of course he was, because all soldiers lived on energy drinks and Zyn or Copenhagen.
“Do we use the laundry facilities at Hillcroft?” Miguel asked.
“Whichever,” I replied. “There’s a laundry room in the basement next to the garage—the code is sixty-seven, forty-nine. The only thing I will say is that the dryers in this building are a little better, and not many use them. Most units have their own facilities.”
It was Leighton’s turn now. We took the elevator down two floors, and I was suddenly glad I’d had my place cleaned not too long ago. But he might have to throw out some condiments that’d expired in the fridge.
I unlocked the door and gestured at the camera in the ceiling. “Same here as upstairs. Increased security wherever operators live.”
“Got it.”
I let him enter first.
My place was simple, and I didn’t have many belongings. Bathroom in the entryway’s hallway, then the kitchen. A small one. Past that, a living room and a sleep alcove.
“By the way, I noticed something,” he said, peering into the kitchen. “You always swipe your ID card at Hillcroft. You know you can just tap it, right?”
I chuckled—but then I smiled as an idea struck. “You should be able to get some profiling out of that, actually. Why do you think I swipe the card?”
He glanced at me curiously, and I let him think about it. In the meantime, I showed him the bathroom, then the kitchen, where the dishwasher needed special care. You had to shut it hard enough that you heard two clicks. Otherwise, water would run out.
He nodded in acknowledgment and turned his attention to the living room. Rather, the walls.
“You don’t have any pictures or personal belongings,” he noted.
Not many of them. “I have a couple photo albums at my ma’s place.” I gestured back to the kitchen. “A few drawings from my niece and nephews on the fridge.”
He came to a stop at the couch, and he looked at the shelf above it. He found some books there. And a snow globe Alex had given me last Christmas.
I’d been so useless that holiday, first one without Vince, that Kat had had to take care of my gift-giving. I didn’t even know what I’d given Alex.
“I think I figured it out.” Leighton looked away from the shelf and dropped his duffel on the couch. “I’m guessing Hillcroft had an older system where you had to swipe your card. Now that you can do both, you stay with the old habit.”
I smirked and nodded with a dip of my chin. “That’s it. I’m old.”
He smiled faintly and scrunched his nose. “I’ve noticed that too. Most operators I’ve seen so far are over forty. Like you and Coach and Riggs and Rose…”
“Do you think Operator Rose is forty?”
“Thereabouts…?”
“Do me a favor and tell him that,” I said. “It’ll make his day.”
Meanwhile, I’d rather knock the boy on his ass. Forty wasn’t fucking old. I’d been kidding. We had operators in their fifties who were in the prime of their lives.
I shook my head to myself and stuck my hands down in my pockets. “Only a twentysomething-year-old would call me old.”
That one actually made him grin, and it was nice to see. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just expected to see more younger people.”
We had younger operators too, but they were lucky enough to be busy working.
I reckoned it was time to give Leighton some facts. “Half the recruits will drop out before final selection,” I said. “During selection, another three or four will fail. That leaves us with four or five new junior operators every year who sign up for a minimum of four years with us. Sometimes fewer—it depends how many we accept and how many apply in the first place. And last but not least, even though junior operators are contracted for four years, they can opt out of fieldwork if they can’t handle the pressure. And someone always does.”
The kid turned pensive. Maybe he considered, for the first time, the resources we spent to ultimately have two or three new operators every year—operators who actually stayed with us long-term.
“What’s the number one reason they drop out?” he asked.
“The young ones? The pressure’s too much,” I answered. “We put our recruits through a lot of teamwork exercises, but in the end, it’s a lonely field. You’re your own backup out there. Your own guide, your own translator, your own weapons expert.”
There were plenty of agencies that shipped entire units overseas, from four to twelve people. Hillcroft took on contracts that required one, two…sometimes three and four. Mostly one. It depended on the nature of the mission.
Leighton hummed. “It may sound weird coming from the Army infantry, but I’m good with lonely work.”
I tilted my head. “Is that because it’s your preference or because it’s all you know?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“Sure. But is it?”
He broke eye contact and knitted his brows together. “Like I said, straight outta the infantry…”
Uh-huh. Where he’d had to go to the bathroom to get solitude. But that didn’t answer my question. Being alone wasn’t restricted to the number of coworkers you had. Even lonely operators needed someone to come home to. Family, kids, a spouse…
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall. “With your permission, I’d like to speak to Doc about your first session tomorrow.”
“You mean—you wanna know what we talked about?”
“I want his two cents on your mind-set,” I corrected. “He won’t give me details, but he might gloss over some things.”
He smiled ruefully and sighed, and he sat down on the couch. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you do. But in order for me to be the mentor you need, I want as much information as I can get my hands on.” I paused briefly. “You’re also alone in this apartment now, and the one con on my list is that I don’t think you should be on your own too much.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I took it out while Leighton mulled over his response.
A message from Shira.
We need you to come in.
Fuck. Had they found the ship? Or even better, the crew that’d hijacked a part of it to use for their operations?
I saw no other reason for Shira to wanna see me urgently.
“Yeah, all right,” I heard Leighton say. “Fine.”
I looked at him, and it took me a moment—wait. Oh, right. Permission to talk to Doc. Okay, good.
I nodded once and pocketed my phone. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me or Coach if anything’s wrong.”
Now I had to text my sister. I wasn’t gonna be able to pick up Alex on time.
* * *
I was walking hurriedly to the elevators when Kristen called, and I wanted to punch a fucking wall. It’d be so easy to let her go to voice mail, but let’s face it. I’d done that too many times already.
“Yeah?” I answered as I swiped my card. Fourth floor, let’s go.
“Hi, it’s me. Where are you?” she asked.
Huh? “I’m at work, and now’s not a good time?—”
“You were supposed to be here at five, Bo!” She immediately got pissy, and I winced. I couldn’t blame her. Fuck, I’d completely forgotten. “You know what? I’m fucking done. If you wanna make this work, give me a call.” She hung up before I could say anything, though I wasn’t sure what that might be.
She’d pulled the trigger on her asshole of a boyfriend. I was free, right? Girlfriend number four had dumped me much like the previous ones had.
I scratched the side of my head. No more commitments, all right? Not a fucking one. It was the same old story every time. I had to work late, I had to work extra, I had to cover for someone else, I had recruits… And the last ten or so months, everything had been about Alex and finding the fuckers who’d shot my brother.
I blew out a breath and stepped out of the elevator.
Leighton hadn’t asked for other reasons people left Hillcroft.
This was one. Our work barely left time for a personal life. The divorce rate was through the roof, and no fucking wonder. We couldn’t divulge much about our jobs, and communication and openness were kind of a deal-breaker in most relationships. Just look at Riggs and his ex. They’d had the advantage of working at the same firm, meaning they could be a little more open with each other, but at the end of the day, they led two separate lives. David wanted children—Riggs was done in that arena—and to eventually retire and move back to the UK, and Riggs didn’t want a life at all. He worked, spent time with his kid, and worked some more. He was never gonna change—and not for anyone else.
As much as I liked the guy, David had done the right thing by leaving. David viewed the divorce as losing someone he’d loved deeply. Riggs viewed it as the result of an operation he’d failed.
Shira was waiting for me right outside the Operations Central, so I shook the sad tales of breakups and refocused.
“What do you have for me?” I asked.
“Two sightings,” she replied. She led the way, and I followed her down a hall. “The ship is back in Mogadishu, but it’s not as relevant anymore. One of our operators came across a few of Hahn’s men in Galveston this morning.”
Holy fuck, so they were stateside. At least some of them.
“You gotta reinstate me,” I told her. “I’m the only one who’s seen their faces?—”
“And they’ve seen yours,” she pointed out. “Believe me, Bo, you will work this case again, but we’re not going to do anything rash.”
Just because I knew she was right didn’t mean I liked it.
I clenched my jaw and followed her into operation room four, where I was surprised to see not only Coach and Emerson but both Tenley brothers. Had they been brought in as consultants? The only way to tell them apart was the fact that Reese had more visible ink. River tended to avoid shaving more too.
Reese tore his gaze from the wall of computer screens first, and he extended a hand to me.
“Good to see you again, buddy. How’re you holdin’ up?”
I shook his hand firmly. “I’ll be better once I can put this assignment behind me.”
He’d been the first former Hillcroft employee to reach out to me when he’d heard about Vince. They’d worked together numerous times, especially in Asia.
“I bet. Hopefully, today’s developments will put us back on track,” he replied. He’d said us , which was interesting.
“Can you zoom in on screen six?” River asked. “The dates don’t add up with the intel we got from Hudson.”
Coach did as requested, and I squinted at the screen too. At first glance, it was just data, but then I started seeing what I assumed were names of ships, ports of origin, and time stamps. They had to be logs, presumably from Galveston or Mogadishu.
“Is this Texas?” I asked Shira.
She nodded. “Hudson is in the area working another assignment, and he overheard names of interest being mentioned at a bar last night. And this morning, he could confirm that they were working for Hahn.” She glanced up at me. “I trust you understand that we wanted to double-check everything before we called you.”
Yeah, yeah, that was fine.
“He just happened to overhear something in a bar?” I questioned. Stranger things had happened, but it still seemed random.
“To be fair, it’s a bar known to be used for illegal activity,” Shira said. “It also looks like there’s a connection between his assignment and this one. Hahn’s crew is there to expand their trafficking operations.”
I released a breath. We’d been waiting for that. We’d seen signs of trafficking ops in Somalia too, but we’d had too little to go on. And we knew they weren’t focusing solely on the coke trade. No one had a niche anymore.
“Okay, so who are we sending, if not me?” I asked next. “We need eyes on them twenty-four seven.”
Coach spoke up, never looking away from the screens. “The Juniors are already on the plane.”
Oh. Okay, they were good. JJ and Junior had practically grown up at Hillcroft. Their fathers were still instructors here, part of the old guard refusing to retire.
Part of me wanted Hudson to get transferred to this assignment, though. He hadn’t worked with my brother much, but he had worked with me. We’d saved each other’s lives more than once.
“River’s right,” Emerson murmured. He stepped forward and pointed at screen six. “The Hahn crew couldn’t have arrived with the Danish container ship—if that’s what Hudson learned. It arrived two hours later, making it impossible for them to be in that bar at the same time.”
River nodded once. “I’d keep my eyes on that ship from Hamburg instead. If you look at the copy on screen five, that data has been scrubbed.”
I rubbed my forehead. Even if I was confused about what exactly they were discussing, I knew that an illegal operation suddenly exploded in size if the corruption extended to port employees. They were official records, not to mention public, and we’d need way more people if?—
“I need to call Quinlan,” Shira said. “We can’t expand the op without approval from the client, and this could cost them millions.”
Reese frowned. “It’s a personal assignment too, though, right? I mean, after Vince died…”
“Absolutely,” Coach assured. “But we’ll still catch bigger fish with a net funded by outside sources, especially if the source is a client with a grudge and oil money.”
Truer words…
I’d met the client once. Some Saudi billionaire whose eldest son had been killed in the crossfire between Hahn’s henchmen and another crime syndicate in Africa. I had no doubt we’d get the funds.
* * *
One more cup of coffee, or get the fuck out of here?
Hell, it was too late to go to my ma’s. I’d just crash in one of the operators’ rooms.
Coach was the only one left, and he looked like he was gonna fall asleep at any second.
I yawned and wheeled my chair back to get a closer look at screen two. At three in the morning, I was too tired to go through the Galveston logs, but I could go through port surveillance footage.
If Shira were here, she’d tell us to get some sleep.
We had broken some ground today, but I wasn’t happy yet. We’d confirmed that the Hahns had simply bullshitted about their arrival to Hudson, which made sense. They had no reason to be forthright to a stranger. River was most likely correct too; there was something about the freighter from Hamburg.
“What the fuck—” I looked over my shoulder as an alarm sounded outside the room, followed by flashing warning lights.
Coach was suddenly alert as hell, and he switched screens to check dispatch central’s incoming messages.
I shot to my feet and moved my handgun from the holster around my ankle to the base of my spine. “What’s it saying?”
Before Coach could respond, we heard it over the PA system.
“Active shooter situation at Lincoln Towers. All operators, initiate lockdown protocol. We repeat, all active operators, initiate lockdown protocol. Shooting reported at Lincoln Towers.”
Jesus fucking Christ! I turned to Coach for the final word, but I was ready to break my own protocol. He and I were two of the many operators instructed to secure Hillcroft in a situation like this, but we had sixteen fucking recruits at the Towers. There wasn’t a fucking chance we were both staying.
“It’s internal,” he reported. “No one’s called 9-1-1 yet.” Which meant the sensors had picked it up—which also meant we knew the floors possibly affected. Ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen. “You go,” he said. “Keep me in your ear. I’ll check the footage and request backup.”
Okay, done. I sprinted out of the room and toward the stairs, but before I called Coach, I went to the top number in my contact list to get through to dispatch. I wanted to make this call myself so I knew what the response was as fast as possible.
“Hillcroft dispatch, state your operator number and name.”
“Three-four-nine-two-zero-six, this is Operator Beckett breaking protocol,” I said, running down the stairs. “We have all sixteen of our recruits at the Towers. Coach is staying behind to be my eyes on the ground, and I’m heading over there. I’ll need backup right away.”
“Responding. Stand by,” the guy replied.
Two junior operators joined me on the second floor, and we flew down the stairs toward the basement. At least, I assumed they were juniors. They were young, and it tended to be their job to secure Lincoln Towers. Once in the basement, we aimed for the martial arts studio at the far end, where we ran through an emergency exit that led to the garage in the next building over. Having no clue if Hillcroft was a target, we couldn’t very well walk out the main entrance.
Dispatch spoke again. “Operators Jones and Kelley are en route, leaving the dorms now.”
“Roger, out.” I ended the call and made a new one to Coach, and as I darted up to the ground-floor level of the garage, I inserted an earbud. I didn’t know who the junior operators in front of me were; I hadn’t gotten a good look at their faces, but I ran past them and ordered them to secure the perimeter around the left tower.
This area was dead at night, and as much as I wanted to sprint across the Circle and the park, I had to keep out of sight.
Coach said something in my ear, but there was too much background noise.
“Say again,” I demanded, out of breath.
“I say again, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you now.”
“Good. There’s activity on all our floors, but I’m gonna go back to five minutes before the alarm—fuck. Two minutes before the alarm, we have an intruder trying to enter your place.”
Leighton.
“God dammit ,” I growled. I rushed across the street and brought out my gun. “How many shots did the sensors pick up?”
“Four. The intruder gets in, Beckett—he went directly to your place. I’m scrolling forward again. We have operators entering. Come back immediately—that’s an order!”
Fuck that.