Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
WYATT
Sleep wouldn’t come. Wyatt shifted onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling, listening for any sound of trouble. Letty’s breathing stayed slow and even beside him. Too even. His mind wouldn’t shut up.
An hour ago, she’d been beneath him, warm, unraveling in his hands, and something in his chest had shifted in a way he didn’t recognize. He dragged a hand down his face. What the hell was I thinking? I don’t blur lines. Never mix protection with want.
And yet, he’d watched her come apart for him and experienced something dangerously close to pride. He sighed. It wasn’t ego. He ran his hand along her arm. God help me, I claimed her.
Moonlight slipped through the edges of the blinds and settled across the bed, giving him just enough light to see the curve of her shoulder and the quiet rise and fall of her breathing. She’d fallen asleep as she settled, curling up against his chest like she was made for him.
That undid him more than the sex. I don’t do soft. He closed his eyes to block out the warmth. I don’t do attachment, either. Her steady breath captured his thoughts as his body stirred again at the memory of the way she said his name.
Control. I need control. I’ve spent my life mastering my emotions. How is this one woman peeling away everything?
She snuggled into him and instead of wanting to get up and create distance between them, he shifted back onto his side and pulled her into his body.
I should regret this. He waited for the feeling to come to the surface, but it didn’t.
“You’re going to wreck me, Doc,” he muttered under his breath, and instead of moving away, he embraced her.
Wyatt woke to the scent of bacon. His mouth watered and for three disoriented seconds, he didn’t know where he was.
He sighed as he registered the unfamiliar quiet.
Safe house. His hand shifted to the other side of the mattress, expecting to touch her.
Cold sheets. His eyes opened fully as his chest tightened in a way he didn’t like. I should have been up first to check…
He bolted out of bed and grabbed his pants. It’s morning. She didn’t flee the state. His thoughts prodded him. I want her here. That irritation annoyed him as he ran a hand through his hair. His mind refocused on the aroma of bacon.
He trudged down the short hall to the scent of coffee, mingled with something sweet. She should have woken me. She shouldn’t be moving around without… He stopped short in the kitchen doorway.
Letty stood barefoot in his t-shirt, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Her hair was loose, falling over one shoulder, earbuds in. Completely unaware she was being watched, she danced. Her hips swayed as she flipped a pancake, mouthing lyrics he couldn’t hear.
She pivoted, did a small spin, and nearly collided with the counter as her eyes found his.
He leaned in the doorway with folded arms, irritation dissolving against his will.
She froze as the spatula hovered in mid-air and an earbud fell free. A blush crept up her neck like a slow sunrise. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he answered.
“I was not doing anything to earn that look on your face, Roper.”
He chuckled. Using my nickname to knock me off guard. “You were dancing.”
She composed herself, quickly straightening. “No…” She huffed. “Well, breakfast doesn’t cook itself.” She grabbed the coffeepot and a mug and filled it. “Here.” She handed him the cup and pointed to the bar stool. “Sit.”
He raised a brow. “You’re a bossy little thing.”
She tilted her head. “You keep saying that. You started it.”
His mouth twitched before he could stop it as he sat, watching her. She moved around the kitchen with easy familiarity, plating bacon and eggs like she had done it a thousand times in a life that looked nothing like the chaos surrounding them now. “You cook often?” he asked.
“When I’m stressed.” The words seemed to surprise her as she said it with a pause.
If this is what stress looks like, she should write a book about coping strategies. He smiled. “You’re stressed?”
“Yes.” She slid a plate in front of him and took the seat at the end of the island in front of her own plate.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few bites as something poked his brain. This is domestic. Shit. He breathed out. “Salt & Steel has a source,” Wyatt said as her eyes lifted.
“At the marina?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?” She set down her fork. “Someone who might know about the boat?”
“Maybe. He’s a retired shrimper. Knows the pulse of the waterfront better than anyone. Sees who comes in, goes out, and who doesn’t belong.”
She finished her cup of coffee. “And he talks to you?”
Wyatt shrugged. “He talks to Cal. Cal talks to me.”
She studied him. “You trust him?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” She paused. “When are we going to Salt & Steel?”
He shook his head. “We aren’t.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m going with you.”
“You’re staying here,” Wyatt replied. He watched her as a flicker ticked her jaw.
“I don’t like that. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Wyatt held up his hand. An unfamiliar feeling surrounded his heart as her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
Her shoulders rose, then fell. “Fine.”
He leaned back in his chair as she took her dishes to the sink. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
His forehead furrowed. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up.”
Her eyes softened, looking up from the sink. “I woke up before you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She looked at him as she cocked her head. “I didn’t leave or anything. You were sleeping, and I was hungry.” She reached across the counter and touched his hand. “I’m still here.”
Her fingers rested against his hand just long enough to steady him, and Wyatt felt the strange sensation of tension easing in his chest. “You should let me do the dishes. You cooked.”
“You can help me when you’re done.”
He popped the piece of bacon into his mouth and got up. She looked content doing her dishes, and he realized as he approached her that he didn’t just want her safe. He wanted her in his kitchen.
WYATT
Captain Sunday didn’t look pleased. He stood at the edge of the dock with Calder, arms crossed, wind snapping at the brim of his hat.
The burned skeleton of the Palmetto Royale still loomed upriver like a scar against the water, a reminder that whatever had started this was far from finished.
Wyatt rested against the Salt & Steel railing, watching the exchange without pretending he wasn’t.
Letty stood a few feet behind him, phone to her ear. Her voice was low, tight. “Yes, Livvy. I know.”
He didn’t turn, but he listened to her argue.
“Dallas isn’t the point. I’m sure he thinks it’s the best place for you…
that doesn’t mean it is. What about your fellowship?
” Letty sighed, listening. “Rich people have their own agenda. Your interest in him is blinding you.” She pressed her lips together before she opened and then closed her mouth. “Olivia!”
Wyatt’s ears perked up. “Olivia?” An idea percolated in the back of his brain as he half-watched Cal with Captain Sunday.
His jaw ticked. Dallas, rich, break-in, Olivia, could this be Olivia Callahan?
He rolled the coin across his knuckles. His heart rate sped up as his mind drifted back to Letty.
She thinks she convinced me to bring her here.
God help me, she had. But it wasn’t logic that made him agree.
It was the idea of her anywhere else, without him.
“…I’m not joining you in Dallas. Whatever, Livvy.”
I know that tone: stubborn, protective of her own pride. I can’t blame her, but I just don’t like it.
Calder’s voice cut through the air. “Wyatt.” He pushed off the railing and joined them.
Captain Sunday gave him a long look. “You boys stirred up something ugly,” the captain muttered.
“Didn’t start it,” Cal stated.
“Still standing in it,” the man grumbled.
Wyatt’s gaze drifted back toward Letty. She paced slowly as she listened, fingers twisting the cord of her earbuds.
“How did she convince you to come back here?” Sunday inquired, nodding toward her.
Cal ignored Wyatt’s lack of a response. “Sunday knows one of the guys seen alongside the Royale.”
Wyatt’s attention snapped back. “And?”
“He’s a felon,” Sunday said. “Name’s Leon Driscoll. Runs odd jobs along the marina. Known to do anything for a buck.”
Wyatt’s jaw ticked. “Makes sense.” He bounced the coin once and caught it clean. “Where can we find him?”
Sunday shrugged. “He floats. Sometimes at the shrimp docks. Sometimes at the abandoned fuel yard.”
Cal pulled out his phone. “I’ll make some inquiries.” He tipped his head to the Captain. “Thanks, you’ll keep an ear out?”
The man raised his hand as he walked away.
Wyatt and Cal headed back to Salt & Steel as Letty’s voice dropped again. “…I know Banner can help, Livvy. That’s not what this is about.”
Banner? He didn’t move. He just listened intently.
“…No. I’m not going to Dallas.” Silence, then softer. “Not yet.”
His grip on the coin tightened. Not yet.
Rhea’s voice cut across the dock. “Bridge. Now!”
Wyatt turned first as Letty ended her call and followed, brow furrowed. “What happened?”
“You’ll want to see this,” Rhea said. They climbed the stairs into The Bridge. The screens were already lit.
Cal stepped inside behind them. “Captain Sunday’s contact confirmed Driscoll was in the marina the morning of your training.”
Her spine stiffened. “The morning, I took the photos?”
“Yes.”
Rhea tapped the keyboard. “Also,” she said carefully, “we have another variable.” The screen shifted as a familiar face appeared.
Wyatt cocked his head. “Who’s this?”
“Will Thomas,” Rhea answered.
Letty gasped. “What is he doing here?”
Rhea didn’t answer immediately. She brought up footage. “He checked into a Tidehaven motel the morning of your training.”
Wyatt’s eyes flicked to Letty. “You know him?”
“Yes,” Letty frowned.
“You didn’t mention that,” Wyatt growled.
“Because I didn’t know,” she said sharply as her jaw tightened. “He’s my former research partner.”
Rhea’s fingers kept moving. “He’s been seen twice near the marina, and once near the fuel yard.”
Wyatt’s body stilled. “Coincidence?”
Letty hesitated, then shook her head. “I doubt it.”
The room shifted as Cal cleared his throat. “Tell us what we need to know.”
Letty inhaled, her posture stiffened. “He came on to me.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t interested. We’d worked fine before, but…”
Wyatt’s hand tightened around the coin again.
“He didn’t take that well,” she continued. “And he was furious when I got the disaster grant instead of him.”
Rhea glanced over her shoulder. “Financially furious?”
“Yes.”
Cal folded his arms. “Would he sabotage a casino boat full of civilians?”
Letty waited to answer. “Over me, no, but I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore.”
Damn her honesty. Wyatt stepped forward, not enough to crowd her. “Does he know you’re here?”
She met his eyes. “Yes.” Silence thickened the room as she leaned against the table.
“Could this be some jealous thing for him?” he growled.
Calder stepped between them verbally without raising his voice. “Focus.” He glared at Wyatt. “This isn’t helping.”
Rhea pulled up surveillance stills. “There’s Driscoll,” she said, enlarging an image. The man wore a hoodie. It was grainy, but definitive.
“Why would Will be involved in any of this?”
Rhea continued, clicking again, “Driscoll’s known associate list includes… Will Thomas.”
The room stilled as Wyatt exhaled quickly. “That’s not a coincidence.”
Cal scanned the room. “Options?”
Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Find Driscoll.”
“And Thomas?” Cal asked.
Wyatt’s gaze shifted to Letty. “That depends.”
Letty’s eyes widened. “On what?”
Wyatt didn’t answer out loud. Is this jealousy or conspiracy? Can I keep her safe? What could he mean to her?
She pushed off the table and straightened her spine. “On what?”
Wyatt didn’t respond because Rhea spoke. “Driscoll’s been spotted at the old fuel yard twice this week.”
Wyatt caught the silver dollar mid-air. “I’ll go.”
Letty stepped forward instantly. “You’re not going alone.”
He turned. “Yes. I am.”
She didn’t back down. “You think if Will is involved, I shouldn’t be there?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
Her eyes flashed. “You won’t sideline me.”
Cal’s voice cut through. “You’re not going.”
She stiffened, staring at Wyatt.
“Stay.” Wyatt touched her hand.
She studied him as if she wanted to argue further, but bit her lip. “You’ll tell me everything?”
“Yes.” He didn’t break eye contact as she nodded. Something eased in his chest because that mattered as he released her hand.
Cal checked his phone again. “I’ll line up a meet. We move smart.”
Wyatt nodded, but his mind wasn’t on Driscoll. It wasn’t even on Will Thomas. It was on the word Dallas and not yet. He slipped the coin back into his pocket. Suddenly this wasn’t just about fire. It was about how much ground he was willing to lose.