Chapter Nine
T he next morning, most of the operatives were out on assignment, leaving only a handful left to work on Callie’s case. ESI’s boardroom always had that buzz of low-level chaos beneath the calm—papers shuffling, boots thudding on tile, Carter clicking through screens at lightning speed.
Matthew sat at the far end, arms crossed, half-listening as Carter finished his update with a flair only Carter could make sound both brilliant and ridiculous.
“…and the kicker is,” their tech wizard said, spinning his laptop around, “this company, Real Terra Landscaping, used to be owned by some local guy out near Lockhart. Legit, had awards and everything. But last year, it got swallowed by an LLC tied to a parent group that hasn’t filed a tax return in five years. ”
Caspian, slouched next to him with his boot propped on a chair leg, raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. One of Duke Carver’s shell networks?”
“Ding ding.” Carter shot him finger guns. “We have a winner.”
Mac leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Explain how this ties to our nursery.”
“Because it’s not about the nursery, it’s about the cover,” Matthew said without hesitation.
The room quieted.
He tapped his knuckles once against the table. “Someone’s using these deliveries to stash something. Launder, move, hide—I don’t know yet. But Morgan Creek’s regular supply chain and clean reputation make it the perfect place to slip something through.”
“What are you thinking?” Bennett asked, pushing his laptop aside. “Weapons? Drugs?”
“Or cash,” Caspian said. “Could be anything. Doesn’t have to be big if it’s meant to pass unnoticed.”
Carter held up a hand. “Before anyone starts digging trenches and swabbing leaves for fingerprints, let me say this—nothing’s confirmed. Although, there’s enough smoke here to start sniffing for fire.”
Mac nodded once, then looked at Matthew. “Stay close. Quiet. No alarms until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Matthew gave a tight nod. “Already planned.”
Mac shifted his gaze to the others. “Caspian, I want you on logistics. Quiet checks with our regular suppliers—see if anyone noticed anything off the books. Carter, keep tracing the LLC links and match delivery manifests to what was actually received. Bennett, start mapping out the nearby properties. If someone’s using the area as a drop point, I want to know who’s close enough to watch or intercept. ”
Bennett tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “On it.”
“And hey, while you’re there…” Carter rose with a grin. “Can you find out what kind of fertilizer they use for those rosemary bushes? My kitchen plant’s suicidal.”
“Try watering it,” Caspian muttered.
Carter gasped. “Betrayal.”
Matthew stood and gathered his notes, what little there were. He didn’t need paper trails to follow instinct. And right now, his gut was telling him Wednesday’s delivery wasn’t a one-off. It was a breadcrumb. The question was, what kind of trail and where would it lead?
If someone thought Morgan Creek was an easy mark, they were about to learn otherwise.
By the time he pulled into the nursery lot, the morning sun had already burned off most of the haze behind the tree line. The summer heat was in full force, and he marveled at how Callie and her crew managed to keep all the plants from drying out and turning to dust.
Miracle workers.
From a distance, everything looked normal. Orderly rows of plants, clean walkways, even the damn wind chimes by the entrance clinking sporadically in the wind.
But the moment Matthew stepped out of the SUV, he felt it.
Something was off.
Not with the property. With Callie.
She was near the shade tunnel, talking with Les, her body angled slightly away.
Her ponytail twitched as she gestured toward a pallet of mulch, giving Les some kind of instruction.
It all looked the same on the surface. But he’d seen her relaxed.
He’d seen her rattled. This was her version of armored.
Matthew took his time crossing the lot, letting her finish. Les gave him a chin tip in greeting before peeling off toward the truck, loading supplies without missing a beat.
Callie stayed where she was, arms crossed over her chest, not cold, but…guarded.
“Busy day?” he asked, voice easy.
She gave a short nod, not quite meeting his eyes. “Always is.”
He waited, but she didn’t say more. Callie shifted her weight and glanced toward the greenhouse like there were ten more things she needed to do.
So that’s how it was going to be.
It shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. Hell, they’d practically melted into each other in the middle of a field of sedum. And then Caspian had shown up, all snark and timing, and reality had come rushing back in.
Matthew hadn’t regretted it. Still didn’t. But he knew the fallout when he saw it.
Callie wasn’t the kind of woman who got swept off her feet. She stayed grounded, rooted. Sturdy as the live oaks on her land. He respected the hell out of that, although, part of him still wanted to push. Just a little. Only enough to remind her that the ground had shifted for him too.
“You good?” he asked, his tone careful.
Her jaw ticked. “Fine.”
A lie. A subtle one.
“Look,” she said before he could say more. “About yesterday—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know. But…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It happened fast.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It did.”
Her gaze flicked to his, quick and sharp. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Neither was I.”
That was the truth, but it didn’t mean he regretted a damn thing. If anything, the memory of it had dogged him all afternoon. The taste of her. The way she’d curled her hand into his shirt as if she wasn’t ready to let go. The way his pulse had pounded with something deeper than heat.
Not only had the incredible woman gotten under his skin, she’d settled somewhere deeper. And now she was trying to build walls back up before he got too close.
Too late.
“Matthew,” she said, softer now.
He didn’t push, he waited.
Finally, she exhaled and glanced toward the greenhouse again. “We should check the east perimeter. There’s a weird patch by the creek that’s been bothering me. Might be nothing, but—”
“But we’re not assuming that anymore,” he finished for her.
Their eyes met again. This time, something in hers softened.
She gave a small nod and started walking, her boots crunching lightly on the gravel. He followed, his pace steady beside her, keeping to her rhythm.
No more pretending. No more brushing it off.
Whatever had sparked between them yesterday wasn’t going away.
And neither was he.
They’d only gone a few yards down the path when the click of nails on stone made Matthew glance back.
Sammy trotted after them from the shade of the greenhouse, tongue lolling, tail wagging in his usual jovial manner. He fell into step at Callie’s other side, brushing her hip with an affectionate bump that made her exhale a half-laugh.
“Traitor,” she muttered, giving the dog a fond look. “You bailed the second it got too hot.”
“Smart dog,” Matthew said. “Knows when to conserve energy.”
“Wish I could say the same.”
They moved into the wooded section along the creek, where the plants grew more wild, less curated.
Matthew kept his gaze scanning—old habit—but part of him was focused on her again.
The way she brushed an overhanging branch aside.
The way her fingers absently threaded through Sammy’s fur when they paused.
“Anything in particular bothering you about this spot?” he asked, slowing as the trees thinned near a split rail fence.
She crouched by a patch of disturbed soil, Sammy sitting loyally beside her. “It’s probably nothing, but it appears something heavy was dragged through here. Could be from the last mulch delivery, although, the timing’s off.”
Matthew crouched too, his fingers brushing over a faint impression in the dirt. He’d noted it yesterday but hadn’t asked her about it. “You take deliveries out here?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “Depends on the supplier. We try to limit traffic near the creek, of course, not everyone listens.”
He took a few steps back, eyeing the fence line and the trees beyond. “You ever have trespassers out here?”
“Not since last spring. A couple of kids cutting through on their way to the road. Nate caught them and gave them a stern talking to, so that ended fast.”
His gaze narrowed on a faint scuff mark near one of the fence posts. “This isn’t from kids.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”
They stood there a beat longer, Sammy sniffing the air, alert but not alarmed. Matthew straightened and dusted off his palms. “We’ll log it and mark the coordinates. Carter might want to run a drone over the tree line if this spot keeps showing up.”
“Great,” Callie said dryly. “Nothing screams peaceful nursery like drone surveillance.”
Matthew gave her a sidelong glance. “Could be worse.”
“Yeah?”
“We could’ve had our first kiss by the compost bins.”
That earned him a short, startled laugh. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.”
Her smile lingered, though, even as she turned back toward the path, Sammy padding ahead as if on perimeter duty now that he was officially awake.
Matthew followed, aware of the heat still pulsing under the surface between them. It hadn’t gone away. It had woven itself into everything now. The way she glanced back when she thought he wasn’t looking. The slight lean toward him when their shoulders brushed.
He wasn’t imagining it, and he wasn’t letting it go.
Something was building here. Between the missing links in this case and the moments they kept nearly slipping into something more, it was all connected.
The key was to keep moving forward. Keep digging and keep her safe while they figured out who was using her land to hide secrets better left buried.
They’d barely rounded the corner by the back lot when Sammy growled low in his throat and veered two steps ahead.