Chapter Five
T he engine noise had barely faded when Caspian tossed the keys from one hand to the other, a smirk already forming as they slid from the SUV into the ESI garage.
They hadn’t served on the same SEAL team, but they’d been stationed at the same base in Virginia long enough to share a few rounds, a few stories, and a mutual respect.
Caspian had a reputation for a wicked aim, and a brother named Dale who’d worn the trident too and now worked as one of Gabe Bryson’s deputies.
It was the Taylor brothers and all their talk about their Texas hometown that had eventually nudged Matthew toward Harland after active duty.
He hadn’t had a plan. No family left. Only a vague idea of wide skies and maybe a place that didn’t feel like a waystation. So far, Harland hadn’t disappointed.
“Garage still smells of grease and testosterone,” Matthew said, stepping past a tool cart with a busted drill charger and a half-eaten protein bar.
Caspian tossed him a look. “You want aromatherapy, try the bakery in the strip mall next door.”
“Maybe later,” Matthew muttered, but a corner of his mouth tugged.
For now, this place felt solid.
“So, Herb Boy has moves,” Caspian said, not even trying to be subtle.
There it was.
He was surprised the guy had waited until their job was done to tease him about last night.
Matthew didn’t take the bait.
He walked around to the back of the vehicle, popped the hatch, and grabbed his gear from the short recon job they’d just finished in the adjacent town. Easy in, easy out. Nothing high risk, but apparently not easy enough to avoid post-mission ribbing.
“Dancing, huh?” Caspian pressed, shouldering his gear. “Two-stepping with a certain nursery owner? I mean, we all thought you were too serious for rhythm, but turns out you’re full of surprises.”
Matthew slammed the hatch closed and locked it. “I have range,” he said dryly.
Caspian let out a laugh. “You sure do. That girl looked like she was trying real hard not to notice you while simultaneously setting you on fire.”
He bit back a grin but didn’t deny it. Callie had a stare sharp enough to cut through Kevlar and a smile that stuck longer than it should have. Not that he was doing anything about it.
Yet.
“Anything else you want to discuss?” he asked as they entered the hallway on the way to the locker room.
“Only that if this turns into some kind of Romeo and Juliet garden plot, I want zero involvement.”
Before Matthew could fire back, Mac appeared and waved them into the meeting room with Gabe on his heels.
“This can’t be good,” Caspian muttered under his breath. “The sheriff cometh.”
Gabe followed Mac with his usual clipped stride, and something small glinting between his fingers. A flash drive. Matthew frowned, his body already shifting into alert mode before his boss even spoke.
“Gabe has something for Carter,” Mac informed as they stood around the table.
The sheriff nodded. “Security footage from Morgan Creek. Callie had an unmarked delivery this morning that didn’t pass the sniff test.”
Matthew stilled, the echo of her name flipping something low in his gut. “What kind of delivery?”
“Two plastic bins. No markings. No documentation.” Gabe’s expression was tight. “Driver said it came from a third-party supplier in Houston, but Callie never ordered anything. Chemical smell was strong enough to make her back off before opening them.”
Mac glanced up from his notes, brows drawing together. “You see the containers?”
“No,” Gabe replied. “Truck was gone by the time I got there. Driver took off when she called me.”
Matthew’s jaw tensed. He could picture it clearly. Callie standing in the yard of her nursery, arms crossed, trying to stay cool while every instinct in her told her something was wrong. She wouldn’t rattle easily. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t shaken now.
Caspian let out a soft whistle beside him. “She get a plate?”
“Partial,” Gabe said. “She was smart about it. Snapped a picture while he drove off. I told her I’d have Carter enhance it. Also have a copy of her camera feed. Not the best angle, but let’s see what we can pull.”
Matthew shifted, the weight of the moment settling into his shoulders. The floor felt colder beneath his boots. The last time he’d seen something like that—unmarked containers, vague paperwork—it had ended with accusations and fallout he hadn’t seen coming.
Ultimately, it had led to his exit from the Navy.
This was smaller, quieter. But no less dangerous.
Mac nodded. “Carter’s in the tech room working the drone perimeter overlay. He can bump this in.”
“You can keep it. I have my own copy at the station.” Gabe offered the flash drive. “She held it together, but I don’t mind telling you it’s got me worried. Someone wanted those bins at her door.”
Matthew’s fingers tightened around the strap of his gear pack.
“You’ve been out there,” Mac said, looking at him. “Think she’d talk if you dropped by?”
Caspian grinned. “Oh, he’s got that covered.”
Ignoring him, Matthew nodded. He didn’t know much about Callie’s life outside the nursery, but he knew enough to respect the way she ran her operation. She had control. Precision. Pride. Someone had tried to mess with that, and she hadn’t rolled over.
But pride didn’t keep you safe. Not when someone wanted to rattle your cage.
“She all right being out there alone?” Matthew asked quietly.
Gabe shook his head. “She’s not alone. Crew was on site. But yeah, she looked like she was trying hard not to be pissed off and unnerved at the same time.”
Matthew nodded again. The wrong delivery. The evasive driver. The chemical smell. All of it rang in his ears, tripping over old instincts that had never fully dulled. It wasn’t suspicion, it felt personal. Familiar in a way he hated.
“I’ll swing by now,” he said.
Mac gave a short nod. “Take Caspian. No reason to roll solo.”
“Field trip,” Caspian said, already moving.
Matthew didn’t respond. His mind was rooted somewhere out on the gravel lot of Morgan Creek Nursery. Something about this felt off. Deeper than a prank or misrouted delivery. Whatever Callie had stumbled into, it had the fingerprints of something calculated. Something close to the edge.
And this time, he wasn’t walking away from it.
The drive out to the nursery passed in a blur of country roads and long stretches of summer-dried pasture.
Caspian rode shotgun, sunglasses tipped down his nose as he casually scrolled through a message thread, probably with his woman, Harper.
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t poke. Which was fine by Matthew.
He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Not when his mind kept drifting back to those two containers, and the woman who hadn’t flinched, even when she probably should have.
They turned past the painted sign at the entrance—MORGAN CREEK NURSERY in crisp white letters, bracketed by two sturdy rosemary bushes, and followed the drive until the main buildings came into view.
The place was spread out but tidy, a functional sprawl of greenhouses, shade tunnels, and long rows of potted herbs and ornamentals. Everything had a place. A purpose.
Callie Morgan didn’t seem the kind of woman who let much slip through the cracks.
She was up near the potting shed when they pulled in, clipboard in hand, ponytail swinging as she talked to a tall man in his fifties. He stood beside her, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed but alert. He listened without interrupting, his nods subtle and sure.
No balking. No overexplaining, but a long-established rhythm, no doubt sharpened over years working together. The way they moved around each other didn’t only say trust, it said family.
Apparently, there was another family member there too. A golden one, with a wagging tail. The dog sat between them, panting lightly, his gaze flicking between Callie and the man as if keeping tabs on both sides of the conversation.
Matthew didn’t miss the way the dog shifted when Callie moved—casual but attentive. Like he was used to trailing her steps. Loyal. Grounded. Familiar.
Golden Retriever, if he had to guess. Older, maybe. Not only a pet, a fixture.
When she turned and spotted the ESI SUV, Matthew caught the subtle flicker of tension in her jaw.
She handed the clipboard to the man, wiped her hands on her jeans, and made her way toward them, dog in tow. The guy was the same one from last night. An employee. A friend. Nothing more.
“Duty calls…”
Her words from last night echoed in his head. So, they’d talked about work. Matthew’s shoulders eased, and he wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did.
Matthew gave himself a mental shake and focused on her approach. That easy, no-nonsense stride hadn’t changed since last night. Neither had the way it tugged at something just under his skin.
“Afternoon,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her boots kicked up dust as she walked. “Let me guess…Gabe sent the cavalry.”
Matthew stepped down first, letting Caspian linger behind him. “More like the nerd squad. We’ve got Carter queued up to check the plate.”
Her lips twitched, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tell him he’s got my eternal gratitude if he can pull anything useful.”
The dog moved to him and brushed against his leg.
Matthew squatted down to give the dog a proper pet. “Well, who might you be?”
The retriever leaned into it like they were old friends, tail swishing slow and steady.
“That’s Sammy,” Callie said, her tone softer than before. “He’s the real boss around here.”
“I can see that.” Matthew scratched behind the dog’s ears. “You’re a good judge of character, huh, Sammy?”
The dog gave a contented huff and nudged his hand for more, which earned a faint smile from Callie—the first real one since they’d arrived.
Caspian stepped up behind him. “Should’ve brought treats. Might’ve made a better first impression.”
Callie lifted a brow. “Too late. He already picked a favorite.”
After giving the dog one last pet, Matthew rose to his feet and met Callie’s gaze. “You okay?”