Chapter 2 - The Shadows in Manhattan
The moment the plane’s tires slammed onto the rainy tarmac at Portland International Airport, Beckett was on his feet before the seatbelt sign even turned off.
He unbuckled Eli, helping the small boy put on his little blue backpack.
“Keep your hand in mine, buddy,” Beckett said, his voice firm and steady.
“Are we rushing to see Grandma?” Eli asked, holding fast to Beckett’s fingers as they navigated the crowded aisle.
“First, we’re going to make sure your grandma is safe at the gate,” Beckett said. “Then I have to make a very important phone call.”
As they stepped out of the jetway into the bustling terminal, a silver-haired woman in a yellow raincoat gasped, dropping her purse. She rushed forward, her eyes wide with shock as she saw Eli walking hand-in-hand with Beckett Langston.
“Eli!” Mrs. Hart cried out, kneeling down to hug her grandson tightly.
“Grandma!” Eli squealed, hugging her neck. “Look! I found a friend on the plane! His name is Beckett, and he knows Mom!”
Mrs. Hart stood up slowly. Her gaze shifted from Eli to Beckett’s face. As her eyes took in Beckett’s gray eyes, his dark hair, and the unmistakable dimple on his cheek, her face turned dead pale.
“Beckett...” Mrs. Hart whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock, old resentment, and sudden terror. “What... what are you doing here?”
“Mrs. Hart,” Beckett said, bowing his head in deep respect. “I didn't plan this. It was a seat assignment. But I know who Eli is now.”
Mrs. Hart instinctively pulled Eli behind her skirts. “Callie swore you would never find out. She protected him from your world, Beckett! She built a sweet, safe life for him away from your money and your father’s poison!”
“And I honor her for that,” Beckett said, stepping closer, his voice low and desperate. “I don't expect your forgiveness right now, Mrs. Hart. But Callie is in grave danger. Did she tell you what she was investigating in Manhattan?”
Mrs. Hart’s hand flew to her mouth. “She... she said she was meeting a confidential source at the Plaza Hotel tonight at six o’clock. A whistle-blower from Apex Global.”
Beckett’s blood turned to liquid ice.
Apex Global. Arthur Langston’s company.
Beckett checked his watch. It was 3:15 PM Pacific Time—which meant it was already 6:15 PM in New York.
He pulled out his satellite phone—a custom, encrypted device he carried for company emergencies—and powered it on. The device instantly locked onto a secure network signal.
He dialed his head of private security, a former Delta Force operator named Marcus Kane.
“Boss!” Kane answered on the first ring, his voice urgent. “Where the hell are you? Your penthouse feed went dead two hours ago, and your board is panicking about the media leaks!”
“Forget the leaks, Marcus,” Beckett commanded, his voice cold and lethal. “I need a tactical security team at the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan right now. Target is Callie Hart. She’s an investigative journalist.”
“Callie Hart?” Kane hesitated. “Boss... we just picked up chatter on the police scanners. There was a disturbance in the parking garage beneath the Plaza twenty minutes ago. An abridged 911 call reported a woman being forced into a black Lincoln Navigator with dark plates.”
Beckett felt the floor beneath him tilt.
“Did they get a plate number?” Beckett demanded, his knuckles turning white around the phone.
“Partial match,” Kane reported. “Registered to a shell corporation owned by Apex Global Security. Boss... that’s your father’s executive transport.”
Arthur had her.
The monster who had spent Beckett’s childhood beating down his spirit, the man who viewed people as assets to be used or eliminated, had taken the mother of Beckett’s child.
Mrs. Hart saw the expression on Beckett’s face and let out a soft, horrified sob. “Oh God... Callie...”
Beckett turned to Mrs. Hart. He reached into his leather jacket, pulled out a black encrypted tracking fob, and handed it to her.
“Mrs. Hart, take Eli and get into the private terminal. I have a company jet parked at Hangar 4. My pilots are on standby. They will take you both to my private ranch in Montana—it’s fortified, off the grid, and guarded by sixteen armed contractors. No one can touch him there.”
Mrs. Hart looked at the fob, then at Beckett’s eyes. For six years, she had hated this man for breaking her daughter’s heart. But right now, she saw no billionaire tech mogul. She saw a father ready to tear the world apart to save his family.
“Bring my daughter back, Beckett,” Mrs. Hart whispered fiercely. “Bring her back to her son.”
Beckett knelt down in front of Eli. He looked into his son’s gray eyes, reaching out to gently touch the small shoulder beneath the blue backpack.
“Eli,” Beckett said softly.
“Are you going to see my mom now?” Eli asked, his small brow furrowed with concern.
“Yes,” Beckett said. “I’m going to go get her. I want you to go with your grandma on a special plane to a big house with green fields and horses. Can you be brave for me a little longer?”
Eli reached into his pocket, pulled out the small stuffed astronaut with the blue-threaded arm, and pressed it into Beckett’s large palm.
“Take Astro,” Eli whispered. “He keeps brave people safe.”
Beckett’s eyes burned with tears as he closed his fingers around the small wooden-and-fabric toy.
“I’ll bring him back to you, Eli,” Beckett promised, his voice cracking. “I’ll bring both of them back.”
May you like
Beckett stood up, turned on his heel, and strode out of the airport terminal toward the waiting private jet on the tarmac. The quiet, passive man who had fled Manhattan that morning was gone.
The dragon was awake.
