September 18th, 2024
Thank fuck, he was here already. I walked into the classroom and aimed for Tanner. As always, he’d snatched a desk in the back, and he’d saved me the middle desk next to his.
Our Cold War class was about to start, so I only had a minute or two. And I really liked our teacher; he was some old-timer—an actual professor who’d been to Vietnam—who everyone called Leg or Legacy. I kinda wanted to impress him. He knew so damn much.
“Hey, can I just double-check something with you?” I asked, keeping my voice down.
“Sure, what’s up?” Tanner leaned back against his desk, so I came to a stop next to him.
With our backs to the rest of the class, I opened my notebook to the dog-eared page about today’s test.
“All of his tests end with the same question—what we can learn from whatever situation,” I said. “And I’m racking my fucking brain. If this whole thing—the recovery of the Soviet sub—is the opening for the decoding class, the only link I can come up with is the Soviet’s radio transmissions when they tried to figure out what we were up to near the wreck site.”
Tanner scratched his nose. “I don’t think it necessarily has to be the decoding. They said intel is next, including decoding. But also, like, withholding information, resistance to interrogation, how to handle the public if shit blows up, and?—”
“So, the Glomar response,” I deadpanned. “This whole fucking project about a sunken submarine just so we can learn how to say neither confirm nor deny?”
He grinned and tapped his nose. “That’s what I’m going with anyway.”
All right. Well, that made shit easier, but?—
“Recruits Watts and Kelley!”
Jesus Christ. Beckett’s booming voice caused me to go rigid, and my heart jumped up into my damn throat.
“Holy fuck, sir,” Tanner blurted out shakily. “You don’t have to yell!”
I turned around and quickly walked over to my desk, and I caught a glimpse of Beckett’s less-than-happy expression.
“Evidently, I do,” he replied irritably. “I asked you to sit down twice already.”
Fuck, shit, fuck. I hadn’t heard him. “My bad, sir.” I sat down and dropped my notes and book on the floor. They weren’t allowed on the desk during a test.
Beckett unclenched his jaw and peered out over the class. “For those of you who aren’t busy flirting, you can tear out one page from your notebooks. The end of the test will come with an essay prompt, and I don’t wanna see another piece of paper without a name on it. It’s not fuckin’ rocket science to add your name. Do that now.”
Tanner and I exchanged a discreet WTF look. We hadn’t been fucking flirting.
Someone was in a shitty mood today.
Unfortunately, I had to raise my hand.
Beckett looked at me, stone-faced. “Speak.”
“Gabriella’s still sick,” I said.
He nodded once. “I’ve spoken with her.” That was that. He glanced at the others. “Leg is running five minutes late, so I will hand out the tests, and you have one hour to complete them in silence. If you finish before the hour is up, leave your test and the essay on the desk here and walk out.”
Aye-aye, Captain.
* * *
September 26th, 2024
Watching Alex do her math homework and count on her fingers might be my favorite when it came to babysitting that girl. She was so focused, and she huffed a lot.
I grinned to myself and shoveled more casserole into my mouth. Today’s lunch was fucking epic. Macaroni casserole with a shit-ton of cheese, different kinds of sausage, peppers, and zucchini.
Once Alex had finished the subtraction problem in her homework, I broke the silence. “What’s with the key around your neck?” I’d noticed it this morning.
She peered down and touched the little key. It looked like an actual key, not some charm.
“I thought I lost it, but Grandma had it,” she said. “Uncle Bo also has one on his key chain.”
“What’s it for?”
“A box. A secret box,” she replied frankly. “Me and Uncle Bo put something for Daddy in the box when I get sad and miss him extra much. It’s buried in a secret place. Very secret.”
I smiled. That was sweet.
“Daddy knows the place,” she added. “Auntie Kat says angels can see secret hiding spots. And look.” She leaned forward and held out the key as much as the necklace would allow. “It says AB for Alex Beckett. Uncle Bo’s says BB.”
I saw the embossed letters now. Definitely sweet. “Did Uncle Bo order those?”
Beckett was good at hinting—or saying it bluntly—that he wasn’t good with children, but he was great with Alex. Every day, he held a homeschooling class for Alex, where Beckett wrote on the board and made her laugh when he asked fictional students for answers. He was funny with her. I’d eavesdropped a few times before my shift with her started.
“Yeah, and he built the box in the garage,” she said. “He and Daddy always built stuff together. They built my bed and my dollhouse too.”
Right. Getting over my crush was going really fucking well.
* * *
September 28th, 2024
Saturdays were chill, especially the pool and the shooting range. I removed my earmuffs and?—
“Nugget, Nugget, Nugget!”
What the fuck? I looked toward the door and spotted Alex and Beckett. How long had she been calling for me? The ear protection wasn’t that good.
I stepped out of my stall, and Alex strode toward me.
Beckett stayed by the door, arms folded over his chest. “No wonder Danny wants you in weaponry expert training.”
As flattering as that was, it wasn’t what I wanted. Weaponry experts spent less time in the field and more time teaching others to get better.
“Nugget, I’m going on vacation!” Alex exclaimed.
I lifted my brows. “Oh yeah? Where are you off to?”
She beamed up at me. “I’m going with Grandma to see Auntie Kat and Uncle Eric in San Diego.”
Oh shit. I’d expected to hear about an overnight trip in this area instead of the half-day outings Beckett took Alex on most weekends. San Diego was a bit more than that.
“Damn. When’re you leaving?” I glanced toward Beckett.
He checked his watch. “They’re wheels up in two hours, so we gotta step on it, mouse.”
Alex grabbed my hand. “Come meet my grandma! She’s upstairs.”
Wait, wheels up in two hours? They were cutting it awfully close.
I let Alex drag me to the doorway. “Two hours seems tight.”
“They’re not flying commercial,” was Beckett’s response.
Not flying commercial… Was something wrong? I assumed that meant they were flying private—or rather, on a Hillcroft plane. Operator Hyatt had told us about their small fleet of planes and helicopters.
“Is something going on?” I asked under my breath.
He shook his head subtly, indicating now wasn’t the time, and we reached the elevators.
I hoped the time was right once Alex was out of here, because I wanted to know.
The only reason Beckett would ship Alex and his mother off was if it’d become too dangerous for them here.
Right?
I did my best to give Alex my attention on the way upstairs. She was excited to see how Auntie Kat and her cousins had settled in on the West Coast. Well, not in those words. She wanted to see their new house, and apparently they had a big trampoline in the backyard.
Alex giggled and went on. “Uncle Eric bought it so my cousins would stay outside more and not bother the grown-ups with all the moving boxes.”
The elevator doors opened, and I answered absently. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast, Lemon.”
We didn’t have to walk far into the lobby to spot who I presumed was Beckett’s mother. She was in her late sixties or so, and she had three pieces of luggage with her. Also, poor her for giving birth to men like Beckett. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall, and she looked kinda frail.
She sighed with relief the moment she saw Beckett and Alex. “You said two minutes, son. You were gone for at least seven.”
“Sorry, Ma.” Beckett picked up two of the rollaboards. “This is Leighton, by the way. He’s been watching Alex a lot.”
Mrs. Beckett smiled politely and extended a hand, so I shook it. “Of course—Alex has spoken fondly about you.”
I smiled too. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beckett.”
Alex had mentioned her more than once too. Grandma used to be “sad much more before,” but now she was starting to improve. Having supper once a week together had morphed into two or three times a week, plus going out for ice cream a couple times.
“I’m just gonna say this now, okay?” Beckett said. “When you land in LA, a man named Crew Finlay will meet up with you and drive you all the way down to Kat and Eric’s. He might also go by Crew Mercier. I’m not sure. But don’t go wander off, all right? If he’s late, you’ll wait for him—and he’ll show you an ID badge from JATE Shield. It’s our sister agency on the West Coast.”
Mrs. Beckett shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. “Aren’t you driving us to the airport?”
“I have work, remember? But Em’s gonna take you—you know him. He’s waiting in the garage in the next building. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have two junior operators on the plane.”
Mrs. Beckett suddenly looked worried. “You’re sure nothing is wrong? It’s a lot of safety measures for a visit to the West Coast.”
Beckett pulled off a smile so charming that even I almost bought his bullshit. “Ma, if something was wrong, don’t you think I would’ve told you? When could I ever keep a secret from you? You’re just hitching a ride because we have people flying out anyway.”
Damn, he was good.
It worked on his mom. She lost the tension in her shoulders, and she grabbed the last rollaboard. “You’re right. Unlike your brother and sister, you always came to me with your troubles.”
What a load of crap. It made me curious about what she knew. I mean, with Beckett’s brother and all… There wasn’t a chance in hell she knew all the ins and outs of that operation.
“There we go,” Beckett said. “This is just me taking advantage of a situation. Plus, the world’s fucked. We can’t be careful enough.”
Alex gasped and stared accusingly at him.
“The world is screwed ,” Beckett amended. “The world is screwed—there is no gosh darn future. All hope is friggin’ lost.”
Wonderful things to tell an eight-year-old.
“Do you need a hand?” I offered.
He shook his head. “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria later. Mouse—say bye-bye, Leighton.”
“Bye-bye, Nugget!” She waved to me.
I waved too, though it suddenly felt shitty to say goodbye. This wasn’t a vacation. I had no idea when I’d see her again, and I didn’t know what to do with my free time now either. Watching her two, three hours every day wasn’t chump change.
* * *
After going back to the shooting range to make sure my stall was ready for the next person, and returning my gun to my room, I headed to the cafeteria, where the weekend staff greeted me with food I wasn’t supposed to eat much of.
Leaving the Army had been good for my stomach, ’cause fuck the DFAC’s gray stews and meat pucks that’d either given me diarrhea or constipation, but this might cause problems too. With fewer Hillcroft staff around, the kitchen crew went the extra mile for those suckers who had to work. Today was Thai food, and I was here for it.
I filled a plate with red curry and then made my way to the table I usually sat at with Alex, near the back, where it was a bit more secluded. Not that it was necessary today. I counted four people in the entire cafeteria, none of them recruits.
Tanner was home with his family for the weekend, and most of the others preferred to be elsewhere. Some were locals who could still afford their own place somehow. Some had family nearby.
I sent Aunt Laura a text while I ate, letting her know I’d come by for dinner another Sunday instead.
Beckett showed up a while later, and he grabbed some food first.
When he arrived at my table, I saw he’d opted for both the red curry and the beef stir-fry.
“The red curry’s awesome,” I said.
“It usually is.”
I chewed around a mouthful of chicken and observed him, how he tucked into his meal right away but seemed to be a million miles away. He had that furrow between his brows, and I could tell he ate on autopilot.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He stopped with his fork in midair, glanced at me, as if reminding himself he wasn’t alone at the table. Then he let out a breath and lowered the fork again, and he folded his arms on the table.
“I don’t know. Maybe. The Hahn fuckers are finally on the move again, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to do shit about it.”
There it was. The men responsible for his brother’s death had resurfaced.
“Are they coming this way, since you shipped Alex off?” I wondered.
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “We’ve been tracking a small crew since they arrived in Galveston, but after what happened with the shooter in my apartment, we stayed back. In short, we don’t believe they know much—just like the guy who broke in. So, we decided to wait until they started moving. As in, when they’d received new orders. Their destination will tell us more than capturing them for interrogation.”
Made sense, I supposed. But it must’ve been hard to know where they were and do nothing about it. Which…had been Beckett’s reality for weeks now. Hell.
“Anyway.” He cleared his throat and shifted his water on his tray. “One of our operators down there reported movement the other day. He followed them to New Orleans two days ago, and yesterday, they continued to Atlanta. This morning, they were still on track to DC, so I decided to organize a quick trip for my mother and Alex.”
Well, fuck. How long could it take to drive from Atlanta to DC? Nine, ten, eleven, twelve hours? Fuck if I knew, but something like that.
“So, what’s the plan?” I had to ask.
“For now, not a damn thing.” That frustrated him. I could tell. “We have four operators on the case right now, and my orders are to sit tight.” He flicked me a look. “Don’t say a word about this to anyone, no matter how much you trust them.”
“Of course not.” I frowned. “When was the last update? Like, could they walk into the lobby here in the next hour or so, guns out?”
He chuckled quietly. “No. There are two options. Either they have a new plan to execute, or they were ordered to move closer and wait for further instructions. Could also be a combination of those two. Regardless, they won’t do anything when their last position was a shitty motel south of Atlanta. They’ll likely head to a safehouse nearby, and we’ll know more once we get surveillance up and running.”
A spark of anticipation ignited within me, and I leaned a few inches closer. “How many of them are there? How much do they know about Hillcroft? How do you set up surveillance just like that?”
He smirked wryly, no doubt thinking I was such a newbie for asking those questions, but he humored me. “When they arrived in Galveston, there were three of them. We lost track of one, and then someone else showed up last week. Hillcroft is a Google search away—they know we’re a private military agency. How they’ve figured out I work here is still a mystery, so…yeah. As for surveillance, we use drones. Some will pick up conversations if the distance isn’t too great, and some can pick up heat signatures and give an operator a good indication of when it’s safe to enter a place to set up a camera feed.”
I really couldn’t fucking wait to become an operator here. This was the life I wanted.
“What if you have a rat?” I wondered. “Someone who fed them intel about your brother and now you?”
He blew out a breath and smiled faintly. “Anything is technically a possibility, but it’s so unlikely that we barely consider it. Every employee here is vetted properly, whether you’re an operator or not, and we’re all on a need-to-know basis.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t been vetted all that much.”
“You also don’t know shit about our operations,” he pointed out.
Hm. He had me there.
“Besides, you were vetted enough,” he went on. “This isn’t the government. In order to approach someone on the inside of Hillcroft, you have to already know the inside. Not even the senior field operators can tell you how Intel runs things, or which of the staff on the higher floors have access to sensitive information.” He paused. “The reason I’m telling you all this is because I want you to lie low for a few days. Don’t leave the building without clearing it with me first, because when push comes to shove, these fuckers still know too much.”
I nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.” I forked up more food. “You must have your guesses about how they could know about you, though. Right? I mean, you and your brother worked that case for how long…?”
“Almost a year,” he answered. “Of course we have guesses. No matter how careful you are in the field, you’re not the only predator out there. The most probable scenario, which lines up with the fact that we walked into an ambush, was that we got caught in their surveillance at some point. Meanwhile—” he took a swig of his water “—we don’t think this information went up the flagpole—at least not very far—before Vince was murdered, because the ultimate ambush was fairly disorganized and handled by low-ranking street soldiers. In a more orchestrated attack, they would’ve had a leader of some sort who at least tried to dig up more intel. They would’ve been smart enough to use Vince as a bargaining chip to lure me out of hiding.”
“ If they knew you were even there,” I said. “ If you and Vince were caught on their surveillance and you unknowingly shared enough information to give them something to go on.”
“Right.”
I shook my head and finished the last of my food. Something didn’t sit right with me. How could they be so sure that nobody was fucking them over from inside Hillcroft? Maybe I had my doubts because we were in the middle of studying the Cold War and all the spies and double agents and…fuck.
“You’re not convinced,” Beckett stated.
“No,” I admitted. “How airtight can an agency be? You’re sitting here telling me things that feel very classified. What if I was planted by some German crime syndicate? Huh? Think about it. I did serve in Germany. Maybe one of those Hahn goons approached me.”
He smiled and shoveled some food into his mouth. “There’s also the chance Santa’s real and he whispered my name and address into their ears.”
I shot him a look. “First of all, that’s fucking arrogant. Second, Santa doesn’t need the addresses of little shits on his naughty list.”
That made him laugh, and he shook his head and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“It’s not arrogance talking, Leighton. It’s experience. Why would the Hahns reach out to you about something that hadn’t even occurred yet? What’re the odds of running into someone in Germany who’d already visited Hillcroft months after his mom died? Why recruit a spy on the off chance that someone one day might hire Hillcroft to go against them? Part of training here is to narrow down your search field. The more you know about your target or enemy, the easier it gets to find more intel. And we know the crew that fired at Vince. We know they’re low-ranking enough that the higher-ups don’t know who they are. In this chain of command, Karl Hahn’s closest associate in Europe or the Middle East orders someone to handle a shipment coming in through Mogadishu. That person, in turn, has an army of captains or regional presidents, who then give the order to someone a level below. In the grand scheme of things—on a global scale, Leighton—we’re talking dozens of steps down the ladder.” Done with his food, before the plate was empty, he shifted his tray to the side. “This is most likely what’s happening. The captain of the crew responsible for Vince’s death is on a quest to regain his standing with his superior. Considering most of that crew died with Vince, he has to start fresh. He has to recruit new foot soldiers, and that takes a while. He’s low on funds because his position in the Hahn organization is far from ideal. He doesn’t rake it in. But he’s determined, and he manages to disappear with the container ship he once used as a way to get around the world. We lost track of them for months. And now, all of a sudden, they pop up in Texas—on another freighter—with a crew that’s essentially useless.”
Well. Perhaps he knew what he was talking about. Perhaps I had a lot to learn.
“Useless, but they know stuff about you,” I said.
He weighed his answer. “Their intel is outdated. I haven’t lived in my apartment since I rotated back home, and they came looking for me but found a scrappy little shit with incredible aim.”
I smiled and sat a little straighter. “How’s that going, by the way? With Nassim or whatever his name is.”
He shrugged. “Beats me. Once the interrogations concluded—which gave us fuck-all—I was back on a need-to-know basis. But I’m assuming he was slapped with some charges and extradited to Germany.”
Huh. That didn’t seem right, unless the charges put him in prison for life. Nobody wanted loose ends that could come back to haunt you.
“I can sense that you really love this waiting game.”
He snorted softly and scratched his arm. “Worst fucking part of the job.” He jerked his chin at me. “How’s the reading assignment from Coach treating you?”
“Like a honey trap who blew her cover,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “What chapter are you on?”
I squinted. “Five, I think. It’s about how they passed messages in Berlin during the Cold War. Lots of secret pockets in books, umbrellas, and cans of shaving cream.”
He nodded and got serious. “Remember all of them. Some of those techniques are still used today. I once transported a microchip in a tube of hemorrhoid cream.”
I laughed. That was funny. “I hope the cream helped.”
He smirked a little and glanced over his shoulder. “It made for an interesting checkpoint search in Lebanon once, I’ll tell you that. I’mma get some dessert before I hit the gym.”
“Okay.” My dessert would obviously be picturing him sweating it up in the gym.
My evenings were kind of predictable. I worked out, I showered, I jerked off, I wanted to bang my head against a wall, I was desperate to forget about him, and then I fell asleep in my misery.