Chapter 17 #3
He exhaled, the sound low and raw. “I’d kiss you again if I knew I could control myself, but I can’t, and we have a house full of guests.”
She smiled. “They’ll go home eventually.”
When he leaned in and took her mouth in a tender kiss, it wasn’t desperation.
It was choice. It was connection.
And for the first time in years, Fallon didn’t run from it.
The heat in the house settled into everything, thick and permanent like it owned the place.
Buddy stood near the kitchen island where Dove had left the hard copies of Mia’s findings, the edges of the pages curling slightly in the humidity.
He’d read them twice. Maybe three times.
They still didn’t feel like anything concrete—just fragments of someone else’s life scattered across too many counties.
Dawson dropped into the stool next to Buddy, rubbing a thumb along the edge of his badge before tucking it away, a habit he’d gotten into when he wasn’t on duty. Sterling remained standing, one shoulder against the wall.
Buddy pushed the top file forward. “Seven companies—all tied to the same fucking thing.”
Dawson drummed his fingers on the counter. “All with the same naming pattern.”
“Blue something. Blue whatever. Blue this, Blue that. Doesn’t matter what the business does—shell company ties eventually point to the same guy who’s associated with EJV Industries.”
Buddy stared at the list.
Blue Heron Boat Tours
Bluewater Restoration
Blue Coast Realty Group
Blue Marlin Logistics
Blue Reef Holdings
Blue Atlantic Renovation
Blue Horizon Imports
All of them arranged like steppingstones up the eastern coast of Florida. Not illegal. Not even suspicious in isolation. But together… they made too much noise in his head to ignore.
Buddy leaned back, the stool creaking under his weight. “EJ Vance. I’ve looked through my files from Simon’s case, and he doesn’t come up once. I called a few contacts, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but they’re digging.”
Sterling rolled his shoulders. “He’s the only person whose connections don’t add up the way they should. Mia’s been digging. She’s done everything short of hacking into the DMV. Everyone on our team has called in favors from every alphabet agency. Nothing’s pinging yet.”
“I’ve exhausted my resources and haven’t found anything of interest,” Dawson said. Not defeat—just truth. “Tomorrow’s gonna be controlled chaos. The entire town, plus another hundred or so. That’s about 500 people cruising through town. We need to walk in with something. Even a maybe.”
Buddy rubbed a hand along his jaw. The stubble rasped against his fingertips, grounding him when the night had gone sideways three times already. “He’s got to be our guy. Nothing else makes sense.”
“Because we’ve got nothing else,” Dawson countered, “and he’s also smart enough not to leave breadcrumbs.”
Sterling shifted against the wall. “Or he’s not involved at all, and we’re staring at the wrong thing. Looking at the wrong clue. I’m stuck on the audible call.”
“You mean, this asshole could change the game—again?” Dawson asked.
“I absolutely believe I was meant to find that first victim, not Fallon. I was out on the water, in that location for a client that bailed before we could even give them the report,” Buddy said.
“Second one was all about watching my response, by using my girlfriend, knowing she was my girlfriend based on the fact that this prick’s been watching.
The audible’s already been called. It’s up to me how this plays out and what Fallon’s role in it is.
” Buddy didn’t mention the memory that flashed through his mind —the jacket folded inside the box, the note tucked beneath it, the weight of it in Fallon’s hands.
He nudged the stack of files again. “Even if we’ve got the wrong guy, and this EJ Vance has nothing to do with this, someone is watching me and Fallon. They have been for a while.”
Dawson’s expression tightened. “That’s the part we can’t ignore. It’s also the part we’ve got to exploit.”
Buddy knew that was coming. He didn’t want to face it. He certainly didn’t want to express it. But there was no hiding from it.
Silence settled in again, thicker this time, the kind that clung to the walls and made the quiet feel inhabited.
Sterling broke it. “You know what we’ve got to do.”
Buddy’s pulse flicked hard at that—old instinct, old dread. “What exactly do you mean?”
“You can’t be glued to her,” Sterling said. “If someone wants to manipulate you, they’re going to pick the moment you step away. So, we plan for that moment.”
Dawson nodded slowly, reluctantly, as if he hadn’t wanted to suggest it, and was grateful someone else had. “We make it predictable—we can control predictable.”
Buddy stiffened. “I’m not so sure we can.”
“We’ve done this a million times.” Sterling didn’t soften it. “Let her be where he expects her. Alone enough to look vulnerable. Visible enough to draw him out.”
Buddy’s jaw locked. “No.”
“It’s not—”
“I said no,” Buddy interrupted Sterling.
Dawson leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the same posture he used on his kids when he needed to negotiate bedtime rituals.
“She’ll be surrounded by volunteers. Hundreds of people.
That jacket… It’s a beacon. If it means something to him, it might draw him faster than anything else.
He’ll be watching you, Fallon, maybe me, Keaton, and your team.
But he can’t watch everyone. He can’t keep an eye on Cullen.
Or Silas. Or Decker. Not to mention Bingo’s back in town.
He’s one badass young dude who would do anything to protect the people of Calusa Cove. ”
“Outside of Cullen and Bingo, those men aren’t trained operatives.” Buddy shoved off the stool, pacing once, stopping himself. “And she’s not bait.”
“Aren’t you the one who said he’s watching her?” Sterling asked quietly. “Whether we acknowledge it or not, she already is.”
The words lodged deep, deeper than Buddy wanted to admit.
“We track her phone, and we use the jacket. Put one of those tags in it. We can get Baily to sew it into the lining.” Dawson’s voice dropped lower.
“We can control the scenario, or our perp can. That’s the only choice we’ve got.
” He raised his hand before Buddy could argue.
“And before you ask, yeah, I’d be fighting this if it were my wife, but I’d also do it because it’s the only option. ”
Buddy stared at the floor, the grain of the wood going blurry for a breath.
He pulled up a mental image of Fallon from earlier.
One of her outside on the patio. She’d been speaking with Chloe.
They were standing off the side, leaning against the railing, immersed in an intense conversation.
He’d seen a tear fall. But he also saw her resolve.
Her stubbornness. The fire she carried even when her hands were shaking.
Buddy closed his eyes for a moment before blinking them open. “We do this, it’s on my terms. She’s never truly alone. Someone has to have eyes on her at all times, and we track her.”
Sterling nodded. “Of course.”
“And the instant anything feels wrong—”
“We pull her,” Dawson finished.
Buddy went still for a moment, the weight of tomorrow already settling over him. “Fine. I’ll present it to Fallon, but she gets to decide. I’m not letting her walk blind into something we don’t understand.”
“None of us want that,” Dawson said. “She’s part of this team. Whether she meant to be or not.”
That truth hurt more than it helped.
Sterling stepped toward the door, grabbing his jacket. “We’ll bring it to the others in the morning.”
Buddy nodded, though the motion felt heavier than it should have. “In the morning.”
Dawson pushed himself to his feet. “Get some sleep.”
Buddy didn’t answer.
Sleep had left the house hours ago.
Buddy exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the pressure that had settled behind his eyes.
The files on the counter didn’t move, but the weight of them had changed—now that there was a name attached, even if that name didn’t mean a damn thing yet.
The room felt tighter, the silence heavy with the understanding tomorrow might demand a price none of them had agreed to pay.
The sound of bare feet padded softly down the hall.
Fallon appeared a moment later, framed by the shadows from the hallway light.
She wore one of Buddy’s T-shirts—too big on her, hem brushing mid-thigh—and her hair was pulled into a loose knot that had mostly given up.
She didn’t look fragile. She looked like someone who’d stopped pretending the night wasn’t as heavy as it was.
Her gaze moved from Buddy to the files to the unnatural stillness that had fallen over everyone.
“You’re talking strategy,” she said softly. Not an accusation. Not a question. Just understanding.
Dawson cleared his throat. “We were wrapping up. We’ll go over everything first thing.” He nudged Sterling toward the door, giving Buddy a look that was equal parts warning and apology. “Try to get a couple of hours if you can.”
Sterling gave Fallon a slight nod on his way out. “See you in the morning,” he said, and then the door shut behind them.
Fallon waited until their footsteps faded outside before stepping farther into the room. She moved toward the counter slowly, not cautious—just thoughtful.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” she said.
Buddy’s hands curled into fists against the back of a chair. “It’s not a good plan.”
She stopped across from him, the breakfast bar between them, the pendant lights highlighting the quiet determination settling into her features. “It’s the only plan that makes sense.”
He shook his head. “It’s too risky. We don’t know who we’re dealing with. We don’t know what they want.”
“We know they’re watching,” she said, her voice steady. “We know they picked me for a reason. And we know whatever they’re planning, it’s meant to pull you off balance. So, we take control of the one thing we can.”
He hated how logical it sounded when she said it—hated even more that she didn’t sound afraid.
“You shouldn’t have to be the one out front.”
“I already am,” she said. “Talking about it just made it official.”
Buddy’s breath caught—not because she was wrong, but because she was right in the one way that mattered. She wasn’t a pawn. She wasn’t a symbol. She wasn’t fragile. She was a woman who’d lost enough to know when running wasn’t an option anymore.
She stepped closer to the counter, fingers brushing the edge of one of the files.
“This ends tomorrow, or it starts again. And I’m not willing to live like that.
Not with everything we’ve already survived.
Not with…” She hesitated, searching for the words.
Not shying away from them. Just giving them the gravity they deserved. “…whatever this is between us.”
Buddy swallowed against the knot forming in his throat. “Fallon—”
She didn’t let him finish. “We deserve a chance at something real,” she said quietly.
“Not fear. Not ghosts. Not running in circles because someone else decided our pasts make us easy targets.” She lifted her eyes to his, and the vulnerability there didn’t weaken her—it sharpened her.
“If this gives us a shot at taking our lives back, even for one breath, then it’s worth the risk. ”
Buddy’s heartbeat kicked hard, too loud in the too-quiet room. He wanted to reach for her. He didn’t. The line between them was thin, but it held a thousand unspoken things they weren’t ready to name. “Tomorrow could go sideways.”
“It could,” she agreed. “But so could doing nothing.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I can’t lose you.”
She stepped around the table and stopped in front of him—close enough that he felt the warmth of her in the space where his guard usually lived. “You’re not going to.”
Her words weren’t a promise. They were a vow.
A quiet, steady, terrifying vow.
And in the silence that followed, he realized she wasn’t just committed to the plan.
She was committed to him.
Tomorrow would be hell.
But for the first time, the storm didn’t feel like the only thing waiting on the other side.