Chapter Forty-Eight
REID
I SPEND TWENTY-FOUR hours in bed after driving Emery to Charleston International Airport.
With Tate behind bars and the marina in shambles, I don’t see the point of doing anything else.
She texted me, letting me know that it’s going okay.
She’s collected her things and had a good conversation with her ex.
It annoys me that she went to see him at all, but I understand why.
I don’t own her and she’s giving up her whole life to be here with me. But my throat burns hot with jealousy.
My phone buzzes again, her name lighting up the screen. I pick it up, squinting at it in the dim bedroom.
Emery: Now, I just have to spend a few days with my parents and then I’m all yours.
I don’t have the energy to respond to that. I let out a loud groan and pull the covers over my head, inhaling the soft scent of her shampoo that clings to them. My phone buzzes again, ringing this time. I ignore it, covering my head with a pillow. When it rings a second time, I pick it up.
Colt’s name glows on the screen.
I tap to answer.
“Colt.”
“Reid. What are you doing?” Colt’s voice is firm—all business. “Are you able to come down to Tate’s office and talk to me?”
“Tate’s office?” I ask, sitting up. “You got something?”
“Maybe. I have a couple of things to ask you.” He pauses and I hear him clicking his tongue against his teeth. He moves the phone away from his mouth and I hear muffled words to someone else. Then he’s back. “Are you able to come now?”
“I’ll be right there,” I growl, hanging up before he can reply.
I dress quickly, sliding into a pair of sandals—my boots are still soaked from the storm. Grabbing my keys and a banana, I lock the door behind me. I have to admit, with Atlas gone, I’m not looking over my shoulder as much. Authorities recovered his body. Ruled it a tragic accident.
Town is still quiet in the aftermath of the storm, so it only takes me a couple of minutes to get to the marina. Colt’s cruiser is parked alongside an unmarked SUV, its license plate frame reads U.S. Government. What the fuck is going on?
I hop out of the truck and find Colt waiting for me in the doorway of Tate’s office. Inside, it looks like someone flipped it upside down and shook it. Evidence teams comb the space, collecting pieces of evidence into little bags and dusting for fingerprints.
“Christ,” I mutter, taking in my surroundings. “You’ve torn this place up.”
“Tate told us where to look,” Colt says assuredly. “Come on in.”
Colt moves into the room, behind the desk. “Fellas,” he says, directing his attention to the crew collecting evidence. “Can we have the room?”
They nod and exit swiftly. I sit in the chair in front of Tate’s desk and wait.
“What’s going on?” I ask, growing impatient.
When the office door clicks closed, Colt turns, sliding a few pieces of shiplap out from the wall, revealing a secret storage space with a gray tackle box inside, the kind with a tight rubber seal and metal clasps. He pulls on some rubber gloves and works it free.
“What the fuck is this?” I grumble, leaning forward.
Colt pops open the clasps and lifts the lid on the box. Inside, there’s a thick folder, a sealed envelope, and a flash drive. A note in Tate’s handwriting rests on top. It reads: If I don’t make it out, give this to DEA Agent Dani Sullivan.
“DEA?” My brow furrows.
“That’s right,” a woman’s voice comes from the doorway. I whirl around to see a woman in her mid-thirties, hair in a long braid, wearing a windbreaker standing in the doorway. She flashes her badge. “Special Agent Dani Sullivan.”
I clear my throat, rising to shake her hand. “Reid Morgan.”
“I know who you are.” She smiles. “Your partner, Tate Maddox… He wasn’t dirty. He was one of us.”
My jaw falls slack. “One of you? What?”
“He’s been an informant for us for two years. And he’s not the only one. Your friend, Dr. Young? Her too.” She waits for me to digest this information.
“Penny…” My voice falls away and I swallow hard. I think back to the federal agents outside Blackbird Cottage six months ago.
“She’s alive. I can’t tell you where she is, but she’s safe.” Dani crosses her arms, watching me.
“Alive?” There was a body in a bag, on a stretcher. I shake my head in confusion.
“Yes. She was too close—we had to get her out. We’ve been trying to crack Langford and Son for decades.” It seems they went to great lengths to do that. Dani has an answer for every question I haven’t asked yet.
And I have so many questions. Everything in me goes still.
Finally, I clear my throat. “So, where’s Tate? Why did they arrest him?”
I think back to the night of the storm—how Tate went willingly, held his wrists up for Colt to cuff him. Walked away without meeting my eye.
“Atlas’s death blew our case wide open. Forced our hand.
We were supposed to catch them in the act during the storm but there was no way.
We had to pull Tate before Langford figured out he’d flipped.
Now Langford thinks Tate’s going down alone.
” Dani steps further into the room, helping herself to the handle of whiskey Tate keeps on the side shelf, like she’s been here a thousand times before. She pours a cup and hands it to me.
I shoot it down, letting out a hiss at the burn. “He didn’t tell me.”
She shakes her head. “He couldn’t. He knew you’d try to get involved and then get yourself killed.”
I drag a hand down my face, the world tilting. Tate—my friend—working a case alone. Carrying all of it. Letting me think he was sinking when he was really trying to plug a hole in a sinking ship.
“The whole damn town thinks he’s a drug runner now,” I growl, shaking my head. I look at Colt, watching the exchange with his arms folded. “You knew about this?”
“Only for a few days. He told me the day Emery’s window got blown out.” I think back to the private conversation I interrupted that day in his office. And how uncomfortable Tate seemed. Now I know why.
Colt steps around the desk. “Listen, Reid, Tate hated every second of keeping this from you. Especially knowing Emery was in danger.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.
“And how do I know she’s safe now? Langford still wants her dead.” I rub the back of my neck, tension coiling there.
“We’re watching Langford closely. He won’t make any rash moves right now,” Colt assures me. “He’s going to let Atlas and Tate go down for this.”
“Where is Tate now?” I ask. “Can I see him?”
Dani shakes her head. “I’m afraid not. We had to get him out of here for a couple of months. He’s at a safehouse upstate.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “And I’m just supposed to…what?”
“You rebuild,” Colt says, meeting my gaze.
“Rebuild,” I repeat. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
THE PLANE FROM Philadelphia lands early, but I’ve been parked and pacing outside baggage claim for an hour already. I don’t tear my eyes from the escalator until I finally see her, duffel bag slung over her shoulder, hair twisted in a loose braid, and those damn glasses that drive me wild.
She steps off the escalator and when her eyes lock with mine, she drops her bag, running straight into my arms. I wrap her up and hold her there—I can finally breathe again.
“I missed you,” she croaks into my shirt.
“I missed you more,” I whisper back.
I pull away just enough to look at her, and the tension in my shoulders that I’ve been carrying since the storm finally loosens.
“I have so much to tell you,” I rasp. “Starting with this—Tate wasn’t running product. He was working with the DEA behind the scenes, trying to shield me and the marina while they built their case. He let everyone think the worst of him to keep the heat off me.”
Emery’s breath catches. “Reid… Oh my God.” Her fingers curl in my shirt, her eyes shining with something like heartbreak and relief tangled together. “He was protecting you.”
“He was,” I nod. “Thank God. I was ready to kill that motherfucker.” I huff a laugh. I cup her cheek, pulling her gaze up to mine, and kiss her softly.
“Ready to go home?” I rasp.
Her eyes soften. “I am home.”
We reach the cabin at sunset, the sun glowing peach, purple, and gold over the flat marsh water.
You’d never know there was a horrific storm days before.
I already cleaned up the worst of the storm damage.
While she was away, I took the boards off the windows and cleared the debris.
Now the place is standing strong like it always does.
The flat water is a mirror for the blazing sky.
Emery stands on the dock for a long moment, just taking it in.
“God,” she breathes. “This time of day is magical here. I’d almost forgotten.”
I step behind her, pulling her into my chest. She leans into me.
“You didn’t forget,” I murmur. “You just needed to come home.”
“New Jersey was…a lot. Saying goodbye to friends. Packing up my things. I spent a few days with my family but even that was exhausting—trying to explain everything without actually explaining it. You know?” She glances up at me. “I’m relieved to be here with you.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She turns in my arms, her blue eyes shining in the golden hour light. “The night of the storm, trapped in that shed with Kayla, all I could think about was that I might not ever see you again. Might not ever get this moment again…”
Her confession cracks me open.
“I was scared too,” I admit. “Of losing you. Of losing Tate. Of losing everything I care about.”
“But you didn’t,” Emery says, her fingers grazing my face.
“No, I didn’t.” I sniffle when I realize my eyes are stinging. God, I don’t even know who I am anymore with this woman in my arms.
The marsh breeze slips around us, carrying the familiar scent of salt and low tide. The sun slips lower, setting fire to the water, and Emery nestles into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Reid,” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“The university is going to want to use Blackbird Cottage for its incoming interns. So…I was wondering…”
I pull back so I can look at her, a smile curving at my lips. “If we could make this living situation a bit more permanent?” I ask.
She nods, her voice is barely above a whisper. “I want to stay. Here. With you. If you’ll have me.”
I don’t even let her finish the breath between us. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her—slow and sure, and deep enough that I feel it in my bones.
When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”