Page 48 of Her Dirty Defender

“I know you’re here for ranch security, but are you”—I swallow hard, the words tasting like ash—“are you spying onme?”

Beckett runs a hand through his hair, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Technically,” he says, then gives me a sheepish look. “I tried bonding with the goats first, but they keep sabotaging my stakeouts.”

The joke dies in the air.

His eyes flick away. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“Seriously?” I hurl the cable at his chest, a small, petty part of me hoping it leaves a mark.

He catches it easily, his reflexes as sharp as ever. But there's a tightness around his eyes that betrays him. Whatever this is, it's serious.

And just like that, the ground shifts beneath my feet. Everything I thought I knew about Beckett—about us—suddenly feels like quicksand.

“George—”

“No.” I back away, hurt and anger warring in my chest. “You don't get to ‘George’ me. Not after...” I gesture between us, then at the surveillance equipment. “What exactly is going on here, Beckett? And don't give me some vague ‘it's complicated’ bullshit. The truth, please. I deserve that much.”

All traces of humor vanish from Beckett’s expression. “Angus and I served together. I’m the one who pulled him out in Kandahar.”

I knew the story, of course, but not the name of the man who saved Angus’s life. It’s not something he ever talks about.

“Angus doesn’t trust many people, but I’m one of them, so he asked me to look into the weird shit going on at the ranch.”

I blink, trying to keep up. “What shit?”

He hesitates, clearly weighing how much to reveal. “Sabotage.”

My eyes widen.“Sabotage?”

Beckett nods grimly. “Cut fence lines. Equipment failures. Phone calls pressuring the family to sell. He set up security cameras, but the footage went missing?—”

“Missing, how?”

“Deliberately erased.” He pauses. “And then there’s the barn fire that almost killed Luna.”

“Oh, God,” I whisper. The implications hit me like a punch to the gut. “So the rumors are true. The fire was deliberate.”

Beckett’s eyes narrow. “I’m surprised you don’t know, considering your father investigated it.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “If you knew my father better, you’d know how tight-lipped he is when it comes to anything he deems official business.” I shake my head as I absorb everything Beckett is telling me. “You think it's someone the Suttons know?”

“I don’t know, but I've got a contact looking into it. Off the books.”

“So what about the cameras in here?” I challenge, raising my chin.

“The cameras are for the perimeter. To catch whoever's sabotaging the equipment. But knowing you're on camera too?” His voice drops lower. “That helps me sleep at night.”

The raw honesty in his voice hits me hard. I want to stay angry, but...

He steps closer, his chest brushing mine. “I’m sorry, George. None of this was about deceiving you. It was about keeping you and everyone else safe.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’ve lost too many people,” he says, voice rough. “Back in Afghanistan... we walked into an ambush on a mission that should’ve been clean. I was the last man standing. I dragged Angus out, barely breathing. Everyone else? Gone. Just like that.”

A muscle flicks in his jaw. “After that, I stopped trusting the system. Started trusting myself, and only myself. Took jobs that paid well, no questions asked. I figured if I couldn’t save the good ones, I’d stop pretending to be one.”

The raw vulnerability in his hazel eyes brings a lump to my throat.

The air between us shifts and becomes heavier, not only with tension but also with truth.

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