“You don’t hate Beckett.”
“I hate his timing. Same difference.”
She was gone. The back door banged shut behind her.
I stood in the hallway and took a breath. Ran a hand through my hair. Straightened my shirt. Beckett was still pounding on the door. I rushed that way and opened it.
He had a toolbox in one hand and a small cardboard box under the other arm. “Brought a spare gas valve in case yours is shot. And some fittings I had lying around.”
That was how the man operated. I’d told him about the water heater problem in town, and now he was here to make sure itgot fixed. If only Lark could see that there were others around who were willing to help her if she would just reach out and stop thinking of herself as being a burden.
“Thanks, man.”
“Show me what we’re working with,” he said.
We got into it. The utility closet was cramped in not nearly as sexy a way with two of us in there, but Beckett was good with his hands and we fell into a rhythm fast. I held the bracket while he tightened the thermocouple. He held the flashlight while I seated the heating element.
While we worked, his eyes moved around the space. He paused and glanced over his shoulder to the propane tank outside the window, then tracked back to the kitchen, where the air still carried a chill.
“How long has the propane been out?” he asked.
“A while.”
“And she didn’t tell anyone.”
I shrugged. “Not even me until yesterday. Lark’s good at making sure nobody knows her problems.”
“And yet she’s willing to help everyone else with theirs.” His hand gripped the wrench hard, each motion deliberate and controlled. “So that’s complete fucking bullshit.”
He wasn’t angry at me, and he wasn’t angry at Lark. He was angry at the situation: that a woman he owed more than he could repay had been going without, and the whole town, himself included, had missed it.
Neither of us had anywhere to put that, so we did what men do. We worked. The heater took shape under our hands, and after a while, the silence loosened enough for the conversation to drift.
“So what’s been keeping Warrior Security busy?” I asked. “You said Lachlan’s running you.”
“That same drug operation.” Beckett leaned in to check the pipe connection. “Still going on. They’re moving product through the county using back roads and rural properties. Setting up on land where the owners aren’t watching their far boundaries.”
“What kinds of properties?”
“Ranches, mostly. Bigger spreads east of town where there’s more space between neighbors. They move in, use the back edges for a few weeks, and by the time anyone notices something’s off, they’ve already pushed the product through and cleared out.”
I handed him the sealant without changing my expression.
Pawsitive wasn’t on the east side of town, but I thought about the fence I’d found cut clean with wire cutters on the back boundary and the tire tracks I’d come across on the access road during a walk at three in the morning. I thought about the gate I’d latched that had been open when I came back to check.
“Have any leads?” I kept my voice even.
“A few. Nothing solid. Travis has been running surveillance, but these guys are careful. They don’t leave much behind.”
“How far east are we talking?” I asked.
“Pretty much everything past Highway 37. Those properties are perfect for it. Big acreage, long boundary lines, access roads that connect to county routes nobody patrols.” He finished the fitting and sat back. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
He accepted that and moved on. I let the conversation settle while I put away what he’d given me. We weren’t on the right side of town for what was happening, but I was going to walk Pawsitive’s back fence line again when I had the chance.
We finished the heater in another twenty minutes. I turned the gas supply back on, lit the pilot, and watched the flame hold steady through the sight glass.
