Chapter 3 #2
“No problem.” Jackson lifted his head to Letty. “I hope you don’t mind, but I grabbed your stuff from the hotel. The manager knows Cal.”
Letty pushed back from the table. “Oh, you’re awesome. Thank you. I need a shower.” She grabbed the bag from his hand and headed to the back of the cottage.
Mid-afternoon, Letty stepped out of the bedroom, yawning. She smiled. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have slept so long.”
Wyatt raised his head from where he sat at the table. “You needed to sleep.”
She cringed. “I know, but there is only one bed and you…”
He flicked his hand at the sofa. “I grabbed a few winks. I’m good.”
She glanced at the material on the table as she grabbed a pan from the rack. “Did you find anything I missed?”
“Not really. I did a little research into the Palmetto. I added the info to your page.”
Letty grabbed bread from the cabinet and items from the fridge. “Want a grilled cheese?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
A few minutes later, Letty set a plate in front of Wyatt and took a seat. “Has Cal heard from the investigator?”
Wyatt took a drink from his soda can. “I don’t think so. Cal said they still have the area roped off.”
Letty nodded as she grabbed her laptop. “I think I’m going to do a little more research.”
A few hours later, Wyatt stretched, casting his eyes from watching Letty through the window to down the shore.
Sunset on the water reminded him why he loved being near the ocean.
He’d only seen the ocean a few times before he enlisted in the Navy.
Resting his arms on the banister behind the cottage, he turned as Letty got up from the table to grab a bottle from the cabinet. “Whiskey?”
Wyatt arched his brow. “You offering or negotiating?”
“Both,.
They stepped out onto the dock. The warm evening was alive with marsh sounds. Letty poured and handed him a glass.
He leaned on the railing, which raised his shirt, giving her a view of his skin. The light highlighted the scar along his back. She stared before she could stop herself.
Wyatt noticed. “Go on,” he said softly. “You’re already cataloging.”
She stepped closer, fingers hovering, before touching with care. First, the scar on his back along his ribs, and then she moved to the rope burn on his forearm.
“How’d you get this rope burn?”
His jaw flexed. “I was fourteen, bareback riding.”
Her eyebrow rose. “I read you were a bull rider.”
He chuckled. “You did your research on Salt & Steel.”
She lowered her head before raising it. “Yes. I always know the background of anyone I work with, or I try.”
“My dad wanted me in every event possible when I was younger. Bareback’s where I learned how fast something can go wrong.” He remembered the pain from his rope burn, making him rub it.
“What happened?” Letty asked.
“A horse named Red Comet, a high-headed bay, kicked me like he had something to prove.”
She nodded.
“I had a decent seat, made it past six seconds and felt good.” He shrugged. “Too good, if I’m being honest.”
“Okay.”
“The whistle blew, and I leaned forward to clear my hand out of the rigging, and he crow-hopped instead of breaking.” He sighed. “The rein jerked, and my glove caught for half a breath. The latigo slid.”
“Latigo?” Letty frowned.
“The leather strap that keeps the rigging tight. It ran across my forearm when he twisted.”
“Oh, a friction burn.”
“More like a friction flay.” His voice stayed even. “Tore skin clean. I hit the dirt before I felt it.”
She studied the scar again. “That’s a long mark.”
He scoffed. “He stepped over me on the way out. I was lucky it was just rope.”
“Did you sit out the next event?”
He gave her a look that answered before he spoke. “No.”
Her head shook. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Dad said if it wasn’t broken, it didn’t count.” His jaw shifted. “Wrapped it and rode the next afternoon.”
“And?” Letty asked.
“I lasted four seconds.” He swallowed. “Couldn’t hold the grip.”
“Why keep going?”
He looked out over the water. “Because if I stopped, he’d say I was soft.”
She rubbed the scar. “That kid was brave.”
His hand came up and touched hers. “That kid learned something that day.”
“Oh?”
“Pain passes.” His thumb brushed her knuckles. “Pride stays.”
She held his gaze. “Did the rib scar happen with the Teams?”
DING.
Wyatt’s comm crackled.
Maxim’s voice came through Channel 16. “Is Roper getting fondled by the dock? Because I’m seeing movement.”
Another voice followed, dry and authoritative. “Focus, Petrov.”
Letty froze as Wyatt rolled his eyes. “A former SEAL teammate. He must be passing through.” He clicked his comms. “Maxim, you brought a friend.”
“I did. Dr. Duval, I’m Maxim, a friend of Roper’s. Meet Ghost.”
“Hello.” A gravelly voice spoke.
Wyatt’s mind scrambled. I know that name. “He’s former Army Intelligence and the husband of Maxim’s partner at CPSP. We met once.”
Ghost answered. “Good memory and yes. We met once in Afghanistan.”
“Over tea and those pastries… What were they called?” He paused as Letty’s eyebrows came together as he whispered. “Gosh-e-fil, Elephant’s ear, light and sweet and dusted with powdered sugar.”
She nodded with a slight smile. “Ah, nice to meet you Maxim and Ghost.”
“Channel 16,” Wyatt muttered. “You’re all muted.”
Laughter crackled before the line went dead.
Letty laughed then, surprised and real. “You work with children.”
Wyatt took out a coin and rolled a silver dollar across his knuckles, smooth and practiced. “Only the loud ones.”
The coin flashed in the fading light as her chocolate eyes studied it. Wyatt’s heart picked up speed as the coin slipped. It clinked against the dock.
She smiled. “Mr. Cowboy SEAL can’t handle a coin flip?”
He stilled, then bent to pick it up. “Don’t start. It’s not sentimental.”
Her brow lifted as she smiled. “It absolutely is. I can see that.”
“No.” He scowled. “It’s just a reminder about how things are.”
She held his gaze, something unspoken tightening between them. “Thanks for staying,” she whispered.
Wyatt leaned closer, voice low. “That’s the job.”
But they both knew better. They lingered a beat too long as the marsh got quiet. Water slid against the pilings in a slow rhythm that made the quiet between them feel louder than the rescue radios that had been crackling all night.
“We should go inside,” she said, though she didn’t move.
Wyatt watched her instead of the water. “Yeah.”
Neither stepped away for a moment. Letty shifted first, brushing past him toward the cottage. Her shoulder grazed his chest as heat snapped between them.
Wyatt reached for the empty glasses at the same time she turned back. They collided.
Her eyes lifted slowly as he stared into them. “Still cataloging?” Wyatt asked, voice low.
“You make it difficult not to.”
He set the glasses down on the dock without looking away from her. The light skipping off the water caught her hair and reflected in her eyes. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her through the damp cotton. “Doc.” He warned with a half-smile.
She didn’t step back. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Only when I want someone alive.”
Her breath caught at his words. His hand came up, slow enough to give her time to stop him, as it settled at her waist. Her fingers slid higher along his ribs, not clinical now.
The night pressed in around them as his head dipped.
Their mouths hovered inches apart, close enough that he felt her breath against his lips.
Ding. Channel 16 crackled alive against his shoulder. “Roper?” Cal’s voice cut through the dark. “You still awake?”
Wyatt closed his eyes briefly as Letty laughed. He dropped his forehead to hers for half a second, just enough to feel. “Inside,” he muttered.
He clicked his radio as he followed her with the glasses in his hand. “Copy.”
Cal spoke. “Rhea found information about the Palmetto Royale. I emailed it to you.”
“Copy. See you in the morning.” Wyatt stepped into the cottage and dreaded what Rhea had found.