Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
LETTY
The Bridge was thick with unspoken words.
Rhea was mid-analysis, screens lit with data streams, when Cal’s phone vibrated against the metal table. He glanced at it once as his jaw shifted. “I need five.” Cal pivoted, already stepping toward the glass stairs. “Don’t go anywhere.”
As if anyone is going anywhere. The door shut behind him, and silence lingered.
Wyatt didn’t look at Letty at that moment.
He rolled the coin once over his knuckles, then caught it in his fist. “Come on.” He walked, and she followed.
They finally stopped in one of the small side offices off the main floor.
Letty pivoted. It looked like a storage-turned-workspace with a desk, a chair, and a narrow window overlooking the marsh.
The door clicked shut. Letty folded her arms, trying for composure. “You look like you’re about to lecture me.”
“I’m not,” he said. That almost startled her more as he stepped closer, not crowding. Not yet.
“I know who your sister is.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“Olivia,” he said. “Banner’s Olivia.”
The room tilted as she processed his words. “How do you know my sister and the guy who dumped her?”
He cringed. “I didn’t know about any of that. I knew her husband. He was my commander, too.”
Her heart began to race for an entirely different reason. “And?”
“And I know Dallas has come up.” His jaw tightened. “More than once.”
She swallowed. “That’s not… Why do you care?”
“Because I do.” His mouth flattened. “And I get it.” His eyes searched her face now, not accusing but measuring, as if he needed to know exactly where she stood before he said the next thing.
“Banner’s building something big with CPSP,” he continued.
“Maxim’s there. They’ll have reach and different resources than Salt & Steel. ”
“And my sister?”
“Yes.” Silence stretched between them. Then his head dropped as he spoke. “When this mess is over…” He paused, like the words physically resisted coming out. “I want the chance to convince you to stay.”
Her breath left her in a rush. “What?”
“I don’t want you choosing Dallas because it feels safer. Or because it feels inevitable.” His eyes darkened. “I want you choosing Tidehaven. Choosing here.”
Choosing you, you mean. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. The unspoken words burned between them, heavy with everything neither of them had quite dared to say yet. Her pulse began to flutter in her throat. “You’re territorial,” she groaned, a smile threatening.
His mouth didn’t soften. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I am.”
Something warm spread through her chest. It reminded her of when she’d choose something she wanted for herself as a child. And God help her, she liked it. She waited. “You think I’d leave without a fight?” she asked.
His hand slid to her waist then, firm and anchoring. “Option me.”
That did it. Her stomach flipped as warmth rushed through her, fast and bright and terrifying. “You don’t even know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking.” His thumb brushed just under her ribs, slow and possessive. “You…” Silence engulfed them as she waited. “You belong near the water. Near hurricanes. Near chaos.” His eyes held hers. “And near me.”
The air shifted, becoming thicker with tension and heat as the space between them disappeared. Her thoughts tried to scramble for logic. This is too fast. It’s the adrenaline because of the drama, because we’re close… But her heart, traitor that it was, surged forward. “I don’t scare easy.”
“Good,” he replied. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”
That was it. That was the moment her mind tipped. Desire brushed the edge of her consciousness like a wave testing the shore. I should walk this back, maybe slow this down. Instead, she stepped closer, eyes boring into his. “Convince me.” She breathed out.
He moved, not gently, not rough, just deliberate. His hands slid up her waist, over her ribs, one bracing behind her shoulder as he backed her into the wall.
The impact wasn’t hard. But it made a statement. His mouth found hers in a kiss that wasn’t hesitant anymore. It wasn’t exploratory. It was claiming. Heat poured through her as his hand moved down her hip, back to her waist, fingers tightening.
Her body arched instinctively. She kissed him back with equal hunger, hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.
Her mind whispered: You’re falling. The thought couldn’t make her stop.
His mouth dragged from her lips to her jaw, down to the curve of her neck. His hand slid along her thigh, fingers pressing just enough to make her gasp. “Having you stay,” he murmured against her skin, “means something to me.”
Her heart thundered. “I know,” she whispered. She was all in, and she didn’t even try to deny it anymore as his hand flattened against her lower back, pulling her flush against him.
The heat between them was no longer subtle. It was undeniable.
Then… DING.
Channel 16 exploded from his radio, echoing in the small room. “Roper. Duval. Bridge. Now.”
Cal. Damn it!
Wyatt groaned, breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers and exhaled once. Her fingers still gripped his shirt with her heart racing.
But something had shifted permanently. “Not finished,” he brushed his lips across hers.
She smiled, breathless. “Not even close.”
He stepped back reluctantly, jaw tight, eyes still dark, claiming her hand in his.
WYATT
When they climbed the metal stairs to The Bridge, Cal was already standing at the main screen. Rhea had returned, soaked from the rain, hair pulled back, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Something had shifted in the room.
“What’ve we got?” Wyatt asked, voice back to steady command.
Cal didn’t waste time. “Driscoll wasn’t freelancing.”
The screen changed. A still frame from marina security. It wasn’t the night of the gala. The timestamp showed three days earlier as Letty stepped closer, cringing. “That’s Will.”
The man stood, clear as day, at the far edge of Dock C while he talked to Driscoll. Just two men in casual conversation.
“That’s not a coincidence,” Wyatt said flatly.
“No,” Cal agreed. “It’s not.”
Letty gasped. “I read on a friend’s social media post that a group of them would be in Charleston for a conference,” she drawled. “His name was on the list.”
Rhea tapped the screen to bring up similar photos. “Metadata confirms timestamp. That’s not the morning of your training exercise.” She typed and clicked on an image as everyone glanced at the screen. “This is the morning of the training exercise. He was there on at least two different days.”
Wyatt’s shoulders tightened. “He was here before the fire.”
“Yes,” Cal replied. “And he met with muscle.”
Letty swallowed. “He looks like he’s trying to blend into the training on the far side of the dock.”
Cal nodded once. “I pulled his certification history. Advanced fire behavior training with coursework in accelerant analysis and incident staging.”
Wyatt’s jaw ticked. “He’d know how to make it look accidental but create chaos.”
“And how to avoid detection,” Rhea added.
The screen shifted again, another image. A supply store receipt popped onto the screen. It showed a purchase for acetone, two days before the gala.
Rhea tapped on the keys. “The last four digits of the card match a consulting expense account tied to…”
Letty wrapped her arms around herself as she murmured. “Will.”
Cal didn’t answer, waiting.
“He could argue it was for research,” Rhea moved the cursor to hover over his name.
“He will,” Wyatt replied.
Letty stepped back from the screen. “He knew I’d photograph everything.”
Wyatt nodded. “Meaning?”
“He told me once I’d document my own funeral if it improved my data set.”
Wyatt’s head dropped. “Well, shit, he anticipated you.”
“Yes.”
Rhea zoomed the dock image tighter.
Will’s posture was relaxed. Driscoll’s was deferential.
“They’re not equals,” Wyatt said.
“No,” Cal agreed. “They aren’t.”
Letty tightened her jaw before she dropped her hands to her side. “He didn’t just get involved,” she muttered. “He orchestrated it. Will thought he could manipulate me into not investigating.”
“Why resort to intimidation?” Rhea asked.
“Because she didn’t fold,” Wyatt growled.
Cal nodded once.
“The email tonight?” He clicked his tongue. “That wasn’t muscle.”
Letty swallowed. “No. It was calculated and personal, from someone who knows me.” She furrowed her brow. “He’s trying to control the narrative, and what better way than to discredit me. Close the file before it opens.”
“And if that fails?” Wyatt asked.
She adjusted her footing. “He worsens.”
Silence in the room made the rain outside ticking against the windows sound louder. Cal stepped forward and uncapped a marker as he put a double box around Will’s name.
Wyatt crossed his arms. “He’ll get nervous soon.”
“Why?” Letty asked.
“Because you’re still standing.”