Secrets in the Air
12
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NOAH'S POV
The early morning sunlight filters through my office windows, warm and golden, but I barely notice. My focus is entirely on the files spread across my desk, each one a potential crack in the foundation I’m desperately trying to protect. I’ve spent the last few hours poring over every detail of the medical team’s personnel files, searching for anything—anything—that might hint at divided loyalties. After last night’s ambush and the stranger’s cryptic warning about someone close being a traitor, I can’t afford to leave any stone unturned.
Trust is a fragile thing, and in my world, it’s even more precarious. The people I work with, the ones I’ve brought into my medical projects, are some of the best. Or at least, I thought they were. But Reyes has proven time and again that he can infiltrate, corrupt, and twist even the most honorable intentions. I won’t let him do it here. Not this time.
But as I sift through the files, something else is tugging at the back of my mind—something I’m not prepared to deal with. Lena. I can’t shake the memory of the way she looked at me last night, her eyes full of everything I didn’t know how to name. She’s been on my mind constantly, pulling me in with every glance, every word, every moment we’ve shared. And it’s driving me crazy.
My chest tightens as I think about her—about the way her body moves, the curve of her hips, the way her lips press together when she’s deep in thought. I try to focus on the files again, but it’s impossible to ignore the heat that builds when I picture her in my mind. The way she stood so close to me last night, the warmth of her body just a breath away from mine. She drew closer to me, and every part of me wanted to close the distance, to pull her into me and feel her against me.
But when I kissed her—when I let myself cross that line—she stopped me. She pulled away, her hands pushing gently against my chest, her eyes filled with regret. And I don’t understand it. Everything between us felt so right, so natural. She wanted it too, didn’t she? The way she leaned into me, the way her body seemed to respond to mine, I felt the same pull she did. But then, just like that, she shut it down.
I’m confused. Confused by what’s between us, confused by how much I want her. I’ve been with enough women to know when the chemistry is undeniable. And with Lena, it’s like a damn explosion waiting to happen. The way she stands close to me, the way her scent lingers in the air when she’s near—it’s intoxicating. But I can’t get past the way she pulled away. It’s like she’s fighting something too, something she’s not ready to face. And hell, I don’t know if I am either.
My fingers flex on the desk, a need for something I can’t explain building in my chest. I want to reach out, to pull her back into me, to feel the weight of her against me, to lose myself in the feeling of her body pressed against mine. I know it’s dangerous. I know I can’t let myself go there, but every moment we’re near each other, every shared glance, every touch, it feels harder and harder to resist.
I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind. I can’t afford to get distracted, not with everything on the line. But the truth is, I’m already in too deep. And when it comes to Lena, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to fight it.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. My chest tightens as I think about Lena, about the look in her eyes when the stranger’s words hit her. If there’s a mole in my ranks, it could destroy everything we’re trying to build—not just for Portside Bay, but for her grandmother’s legacy, for the people in this town who still believe in the clinic’s purpose.The staff for the Portside project is small, deliberately so. I handpicked each of them, ensuring they shared my vision for a better, more accessible healthcare system. But even with all the vetting in the world, no one is immune to temptation or coercion.
By mid-morning, I’ve called in the first of my team members. Jillian, the clinic’s lead nurse, sits across from me in the small office, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly as I explain the purpose of the meeting.
“I need to be certain, Jill,” I say, my tone firm but not accusatory. “After what happened at the docks and the threats we’ve received, I have to know that everyone on this team is here for the right reasons.”
She crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. “You think someone on the team is working against you? Against the clinic?”
“I don’t want to think that,” I admit, rubbing a hand over my face. “But I have to be sure. If there’s even a chance someone’s feeding information to the wrong people, we’re all at risk.”
Jillian studies me for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “You know me, Noah. I’ve been with you since South America. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t believe in what you’re doing.”
Her words carry weight, and I nod, feeling a small measure of relief. Jillian has always been direct, no-nonsense, and fiercely loyal. If she were involved in anything underhanded, it would be a shock.
Still, I press on, asking questions about her interactions with vendors, donors, and anyone outside the team who might have access to sensitive information. She answers each one without hesitation, her frustration growing as the conversation continues.
“Look,” she says finally, her voice tinged with exasperation. “If someone on this team is working against you, it’s not me. But I’ll keep my eyes open, and if I see anything suspicious, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you, Jill,” I say, meeting her gaze. “I mean it.”
She nods, standing and heading for the door. “You’re not wrong to be cautious, Noah. Just don’t let it eat you alive.”
The next few hours are a blur of similar conversations. Most of the team reacts with some combination of confusion and concern, their responses earnest enough to ease some of my doubts. But there’s one interaction that leaves me uneasy.
Kyle, one of the newer additions to the team, shifts uncomfortably in his seat when I start asking questions. His answers are vague, his tone defensive, and he avoids making direct eye contact.
“Look, I’m here to do my job,” he says, leaning back and folding his arms. “I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, but it’s not me.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “I’m not accusing anyone, Kyle. I’m just trying to protect this project—and everyone involved.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Sounds like paranoia to me.”
The comment stings more than it should, but I let it slide. “If you have nothing to hide, then there’s no problem, right?”
“Right,” he mutters, but the tension in his posture tells a different story.
When the meeting ends, I watch him leave, unease settling in my gut. I can’t say for sure if Kyle’s hiding something, but his behavior is enough to warrant keeping an eye on him.
By the time I’ve finished speaking with the last team member, the sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the clinic. My head throbs from the effort of dissecting every word, every gesture, looking for cracks in the foundation of trust I’ve built.
As I pack up my notes, Lena’s voice echoes in my mind: “We can’t let him win.” She’s right, of course. Reyes thrives on division, on fear and mistrust. But if there’s even a chance someone close to us is working against us, I have to find out.
The door to the office creaks open, and Jillian steps inside, a folder in her hands. “I thought you might want to see this,” she says, setting it on the desk.
I open the folder, my eyes scanning the documents inside. It’s a list of recent communications—emails, phone calls, and shipments—all logged and organized.
“It’s everything from the past month,” Jillian explains. “If someone’s been leaking information, there might be a trail.”
I nod, a flicker of gratitude cutting through the exhaustion. “Thanks, Jill. I’ll go through it tonight.”
She hesitates, her gaze lingering on me. “Don’t let this take over, Noah. You’ve got good people here. Don’t forget that.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, and I force a small smile. “I’ll try.”
As she leaves, I sit back in my chair, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Trust is a fragile thing, but it’s also a necessity. If I lose sight of that, Reyes won’t need a mole to destroy us—I’ll do it myself.
The clinic is quiet, save for the hum of the rain outside and the faint rustle of papers as I sift through more files. Somehow the clinic felt like a better place to go through the paperwork Jill gave me. My focus is razor-sharp, though my thoughts keep drifting to Lena. Her determination is magnetic, her passion undeniable, but I can sense the weight of everything pressing down on her. She’s carrying not just her grandmother’s legacy but the hopes of a community too fragile to withstand another blow. It’s the kind of fight I’ve seen before—one that consumes people if they’re not careful.
I’ve been trying to keep my distance, to focus on the task at hand, but the lines between this battle and my feelings for Lena are blurring faster than I can handle.
The knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at my watch. It’s late—too late for casual visitors. My instincts sharpen as I step toward the entrance, my shoulders tense.
Through the window, I see a tall figure standing just outside the clinic’s front door. His silhouette is familiar, and it takes me a moment to place it. Andres. I’ve seen him around town—quiet, watchful, always hovering at the edges of conversations but rarely stepping in.
I open the door, my gaze wary. “Andres, right?”
“That’s me,” he says, his voice smooth and unhurried. His dark eyes flick past me, scanning the interior of the clinic before settling on my face. “I’m here to see Lena.”
“She’s not here,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral. “What’s this about?”
Andres hesitates, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. “It’s personal. Family business.”
I step aside, motioning for him to enter. “If it’s about Lena, you can tell me.”
He gives me a look, one that’s equal parts skeptical and appraising. “And you are?”
“Noah Grant,” I say, my voice steady. “I’m working with Lena to uncover what’s happening with Reyes.”
The name doesn’t seem to surprise him, though his jaw tightens slightly. He steps inside, his boots leaving faint marks on the tile as he makes his way to the center of the room. “If you’re helping Lena, then we need to talk.”
I close the door, leaning against it as I cross my arms. “I’m listening.”
Andres pulls out a small leather-bound notebook from inside his coat, placing it on the counter. The edges are worn, the cover cracked with age. “This belonged to Maria Torres,” he says, his tone reverent. “She gave it to me years ago, told me to protect it at all costs.”
My gaze narrows as I step closer, my eyes locking onto the notebook. “What’s in it?”
“Everything,” Andres says simply. “Her network. Her allies. The plans she made to keep this town alive when the council turned their backs on her.”
I open the notebook carefully, my fingers brushing over the fragile pages. The handwriting is unmistakable—looping, elegant, and purposeful. Each entry feels like a window into Maria’s mind, a roadmap of the battles she fought and the strategies she employed.
“Why bring this to us now?” I ask, glancing up at him.
“Because Reyes is escalating,” Andres replies, his voice low but firm. “And because Lena needs to understand just how far her grandmother was willing to go to protect this place.”
The weight of his words settles over me like a storm cloud. I flip through the pages, each one filled with meticulous notes, coded messages, and names I don’t recognize. It’s clear that Maria wasn’t just a healer—she was a strategist, someone who knew how to navigate the tangled web of power and corruption.
“Andres,” I say, my tone sharper now. “How much do you know about Reyes’s connection to this town?”
“Enough to know he’s a problem,” Andres says, his gaze steady. “But not enough to take him down. That’s why I came to you.”
His admission catches me off guard, and I close the notebook, the weight of it pressing against my palm. “This is a lot to process,” I say finally. “But it could be the key to everything.”
Andres nods, his expression grim. “Just make sure Lena knows what she’s up against. This fight isn’t going to be easy.”
“It never is,” I reply, slipping the notebook into my bag. “But we’re not backing down.”
As Andres heads for the door, he pauses, his hand resting on the frame. “One more thing,” he says, his voice quieter now. “There are people in this town who aren’t who they seem. Be careful who you trust.”
The warning lingers long after he’s gone, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside me. I glance at the notebook again, the weight of Maria’s legacy pressing heavily on my shoulders. There’s so much at stake—too much to lose. And now, with this new piece of the puzzle, the fight feels more dangerous than ever.
The clinic is quiet when Lena arrives later that evening, her steps lighter than usual despite the storm brewing outside. The sound of her heels tapping softly against the floor is like a warning, a signal that something’s about to shift, and I feel it in the air. The way she moves—graceful, effortless—captures my attention before she even speaks. Her presence fills the room like a spark to dry tinder, and I can’t help but watch her as she steps inside, shaking the raindrops from her coat.
The glow from the desk lamp casts a warm circle of light over Maria’s notebook, its fragile pages still open where I left them. It’s almost serene in the stillness, but the moment Lena steps into the light, everything changes. Seeing her after the conversation with Andres feels like stepping into the eye of a hurricane—calm, but with the knowledge of chaos just beyond. I can’t shake the feeling that the moment she walks through the door, the world tilts, and everything becomes more complicated, more intense.
She shrugs off her rain-soaked coat, her fingers trailing over the fabric, the sleek curve of her back moving with an effortless grace that makes my pulse hitch. I want to reach out, to pull her closer, feel the warmth of her skin, but I stay frozen, watching her every move. My gaze drifts to the way her hips sway as she walks toward me, the soft glow of the light catching her hair, turning it into a cascade of gold. The curve of her body, the way she moves—God, I want to pull her into my arms, taste her lips, press her against me and never let go.
But instead, I just sit there, my chest tightening, the heat building between us almost unbearable. I want to touch her, feel the softness of her body under my hands, but I force myself to stay still, to focus on the words I need to say. I want her, more than I can put into words, but I don’t know how to handle it. Not yet.
“What’s that look?” she asks, her brow arching, her voice teasing, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes. She sets a steaming mug of tea in front of me, the scent of it filling the air, a welcome distraction from the way my body is reacting to her nearness.
I pause, weighing the words carefully, fighting the desire to just pull her closer, to claim her the way I’ve been imagining for days. “Andres came by.”
The words fall from my lips, but it feels like nothing compared to the electric pull between us. Everything inside me wants to forget about the conversation, forget about the danger we’re facing, and just focus on her—on Lena. Because in this moment, as she stands before me, so damn close, everything else fades away. All I can think about is her.
That catches her off guard. Her movements still, and her expression tightens. “What did he want?”
“He gave me this,” I say, sliding the notebook toward her. “It belonged to your grandmother. He said she asked him to keep it safe, but with everything happening now, he thought it was time for you to have it.”
Lena stares at the notebook like it might come alive, her lips parting in disbelief. Slowly, she lowers herself into the chair across from me, her fingers trembling as she touches the edge of the worn cover.
“She never mentioned this to me,” she whispers, her voice laced with a mix of awe and hurt.
“Maybe she didn’t want to burden you with it,” I suggest. “Or maybe she thought you’d find it when the time was right.”
Lena’s jaw tightens as she flips through the pages, her eyes scanning the handwritten notes and coded messages. Her silence feels heavy, and I give her the space she needs to process.
“She was fighting so much more than I realized,” she murmurs after a moment, her voice thick with emotion. “All this time, I thought the clinic was just about helping people. But she was playing a bigger game—a dangerous one.”
“She was protecting this town,” I say quietly. “The clinic might have been the heart of her work, but the fight extended far beyond its walls.”
Lena’s gaze lifts to meet mine, and for a moment, the vulnerability in her expression makes my chest tighten. “I’m starting to think I didn’t know her as well as I thought,” she admits.
“You knew her,” I counter, my voice steady. “You knew her heart, Lena. And that’s what mattered most.”
She nods slowly, closing the notebook and exhaling a shaky breath. “So what do we do with this? How does it help us stop Reyes?”
“We start by decoding it,” I say. “Maria’s notes are detailed, but some of this is encrypted—like she didn’t want just anyone understanding it.”
Lena’s lips press into a determined line. “Then we decode it. Whatever it takes.”
I lean back in my chair, studying her as she pulls the notebook closer. The storm outside rattles the windows, but inside, the air feels charged with a different kind of energy—focused, unrelenting, and shared.
“We can’t do this alone,” I say, breaking the silence. “If Andres is right, there are people in this town who can help us. But we need to be careful about who we trust.”
Lena nods, her gaze steady. “Agreed. We need allies, but we can’t afford to be blindsided.”
Her words settle something inside me. This isn’t just my fight anymore—it’s ours. And together, we’re stronger than Reyes could ever anticipate.
As the night deepens, we spread out maps, files, and Maria’s notebook across the table, piecing together a plan that feels both ambitious and dangerous. Lena’s sharp mind shines as she connects dots I hadn’t even considered, her insights driving the conversation forward.
“We need proof that ties Reyes to the pharmaceuticals we found,” she says, her pen flying across a notepad. “The manifests alone aren’t enough. We need receipts, connections, something irrefutable.”
“And we need to figure out who’s moving the shipments now,” I add. “If the operation is shifting, someone in town might have noticed changes—new trucks, unfamiliar faces, anything.”
Lena frowns, tapping her pen against the table. “There’s one person who might know.”
“Who?”
“The port manager,” she says. “Dan Porter. He wasn’t exactly warm when we spoke, but I got the sense he knows more than he’s letting on.”
I nod, recalling the conversation at the docks. “He agreed to stay quiet until the end of the week, but after that, he’s taking what he knows to the authorities if we don’t have answers. It’s a tight window.”
Lena’s jaw tightens, her determination clear. “Then we don’t waste time. If Porter has even a piece of the puzzle, we need to get it from him before he talks to anyone else.”.
Her determination is contagious, and I find myself nodding along. “Alright. We’ll start with the port. But we’ll need a backup plan in case things go south.”
“I’ll reach out to Andres,” Lena offers. “He has connections in town—people who might be able to help us without drawing too much attention.”
It’s a solid plan, and as we map out our next steps, the tension in the room eases slightly. For the first time in weeks, it feels like we’re not just reacting to Reyes—we’re moving against him.
By the time we finish, the storm has calmed to a gentle drizzle, the sound of raindrops against the windows soothing in its consistency. Lena leans back in her chair, her expression weary but resolute.
“We’re making progress,” she says, her voice soft but firm.
“We are,” I agree, though a part of me can’t shake the feeling that this calm won’t last.
Lena’s phone buzzes on the table, and she picks it up, her brow furrowing as she reads the screen. “It’s Andres,” she says, her tone cautious.
“What does he want?”
She answers the call, putting it on speaker. Andres’s voice comes through, steady but tinged with urgency. “Lena, there’s something you need to know.”
“What is it?” she asks, sitting up straighter.
“There’s been a lawsuit filed against the hospital Noah’s building,” Andres says. “It’s quiet, anonymous—filed by supposed clients who claim damages.”
The words hit me like a punch, and I feel the air leave my lungs. “What?”
“It’s designed to discredit you,” Andres continues. “To make people question your integrity and your motives. If this gains traction, it could shut you down before you even open your doors.”
The room feels colder, the weight of his revelation settling heavily over us.
“Do you know who’s behind it?” Lena asks, her voice sharp.
“Not yet,” Andres admits. “But I’m working on it. I thought you should know before it gets worse.”
I grip the edge of the table, my mind racing. “This isn’t just about the center,” I say, my voice low but steady. “It’s about Reyes. He’s trying to silence us before we get too close.”
Lena’s gaze meets mine, and I see the same fire burning in her eyes that I feel in my chest.
“Then we don’t let him win,” she says fiercely.
The line goes dead, leaving the room steeped in heavy silence.
“Lena,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“We’ll fight this, Noah,” she says, her voice unwavering. “Together.”
I nod, the determination in her voice giving me strength. The storm may be far from over, but with Lena by my side, I know we’re ready to face whatever comes next.