Chapter Fifteen
M atthew woke before the sun, the air cool and still beneath the lean-to’s wide overhang. The old sleeping bag beneath him rustled as he sat up slowly, his joints stiff but familiar with discomfort. He stretched once, rolled his shoulders, and let the early hush of the nursery wash over him.
This made three nights in a row. Three nights of slipping in after dark, setting up camp where no cameras could catch him, and waking before dawn to disappear before Callie or the others arrived. It wasn’t ideal, but it was safer. Quiet.
Close.
After seeing the way her hands shook slightly the day her neighbor had spotted the truck idling outside the gate and how she’d set her jaw and kept moving forward anyway, he hadn’t been able to leave.
Now, it felt like the only place he should be.
He leaned back against the post, resting his forearm across one knee, and waited.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, he spotted her.
Callie crossed the field from her house, Sammy at her side, the Golden Retriever’s tail wagging as if it had its own engine. She was in jeans and a T-shirt, hair pulled back, coffee in hand. No makeup. No pretense. All strength and sunshine and grit.
His chest ached.
She didn’t see him. She never did. Not here.
That was the point.
But he watched until she reached the main building and unlocked the door. Sammy followed her inside with a wag and a yawn. Another few minutes passed before Nate’s truck rumbled up the gravel drive.
Matthew didn’t flinch. He knew the man had a key for the front gate, he’d seen him use it three mornings ago, after Matthew’s first night camping out.
She wasn’t alone now.
He exhaled, the tension in his spine unwinding enough to stand. When his bones stopped cracking after another quick stretch, he quickly rolled his sleeping bag, pulled his Mag flashlight from the side pocket of his duffle to make room, then slung the bag over his shoulder.
Matthew jogged through the trees to the edge of the property, where his SUV sat hidden beyond the sight lines of the main road. He climbed in and pulled out, vowing to be back soon.
Because protecting Callie didn’t end at sunrise.
Neither did thoughts of her.
She stayed with him the entire drive into town.
He headed straight for ESI, the August heat building around him, tension rising with every mile.
Matthew parked behind the strip mall next door and slipped inside headquarters, where the blast of AC hit his skin, and relief washed over him, sharp, immediate, and so damn welcome.
Only a skeleton crew at headquarters today. The rest of the team was split between two security jobs in Houston.
Caspian was working the front desk, which left him available if Matthew needed an assist. And Carter? He was exactly where Matthew expected him to be—in his pit, three screens open, coffee in hand, and multitasking at high speed.
“Thought you were off playing campground sentinel,” Carter said without looking up.
Matthew dropped his duffle beside the chair. “Did my rounds. Anything on FieldSource?”
“Nothing concrete. Ellis’ books are cleaner than they should be, but not dirty enough to flip anyone yet.” He squinted at his screen. “You get eyes on anything new?”
“Not at the nursery. But that truck Everett saw? Definitely a retrieval attempt. They didn’t know we intercepted the box.
” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “And I’ve been watching the patterns.
They know the layout, which means someone either gave them a map, or they’ve been watching longer than we thought. ”
Carter finally looked up, his expression sharpening. “That’s a problem.”
“No kidding.” Matthew scrubbed a hand through his hair. “And Rosie?”
Carter’s mouth twitched. “Did some digging. Got a name on the delivery guy Rosie slipped that note to.”
Matthew straightened slightly. “And?”
“Dylan Marks. Small courier outfit that does contracted runs for FieldSource. Local guy, no flags, no priors, not even a speeding ticket.”
“But?”
“But he hasn’t been back, and when I cross-referenced routes and shifts, he’s been rotated off that run since.”
Matthew’s brow furrowed. “Coincidence?”
“Maybe. Rosie told Caspian it was a request for a catalog, but I don’t like how fast he disappeared from the circuit.”
He exhaled slowly. “Keep an eye on it.”
“Already am. And the shell company tied to GreenSpan?” Carter tapped the screen. “Still working the paper trail. Whoever’s funding this doesn’t want to be found.”
“Keep digging.” Matthew gave a small nod. “I’m heading back soon, after I stop home for a quick shower and change.”
Carter tapped his pen against the desk, then aimed it at Matthew. “You planning to keep playing night watchman?”
Matthew shrugged. “Been working so far.”
The guy smirked. “If Callie finds out you’ve been camping twenty yards from her back door without saying a word, she’s either gonna drag you into her house or banish you to the compost pile.”
He cracked a smile despite himself. “Worth the risk.”
***
B y the time Matthew turned down the gravel drive again, the sun was past its peak, and the nursery had settled into a quieter rhythm. The parking area had a few cars and a customer loading soil into the back of a minivan. Normal. Peaceful.
For Callie’s sake, he hoped it lasted.
He parked further from the main greenhouse than usual, partly to keep a lower profile, partly because he needed the walk to settle his thoughts.
Inside the nursery, Rosie was helping a couple pick out hanging baskets, her voice bright and friendly.
Nate spotted him near the counter and gave a subtle nod before returning to sorting a pallet of bags near the side entrance.
Everyone seemed calm, focused, but Matthew felt the hum of tension under it all. As if a taut wire were waiting to snap.
He didn't immediately look for Callie. Instead, he checked the perimeter, noting anything new—an unfamiliar car, a delivery van idling too long, anything out of place.
Nothing yet.
Still, his instincts told him it wouldn’t be long.
When he finally stepped into the main greenhouse, Sammy perked up from his usual shaded spot and padded over, his tail swishing low with quiet excitement. Matthew crouched to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“Hey, buddy.” He lowered his voice. “Keeping watch for me?”
Sammy let out a soft huff, clearly unimpressed.
“Same.”
He straightened, then heard Callie’s voice. Not strained. Not tense. But a little clipped, as if she was multitasking while managing stress. She appeared a moment later, clipboard in hand, pen tucked behind one ear, a smudge of dirt across one cheek, reminding him of war paint.
She stole his breath.
“You’re back,” she said, surprise and relief slipping into her voice.
Inhaling, he nodded. “Did I miss anything?”
Callie shook her head, giving him a long, assessing look. “How about you? Find anything new?”
“Some.” He nodded toward the far end of the greenhouse. “You got a minute?”
Her eyes flicked to the register, then to Nate, who caught her glance and offered a low wave that said I’ve got it . She gave a grateful nod, then turned back to Matthew.
“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
As they walked the length of the greenhouse together, she glanced at him sideways. “You look a little more rested than you did yesterday.”
“Thanks, I think,” he said dryly. “Carter called me a…watchman. So, yeah. Pretty standard.”
He didn’t mention the night part, but the laugh she gave him anyway loosened something in his chest.
They stepped out the rear exit and onto the path that led toward the back. He didn’t know what was coming next, but if it involved the mess they were still unraveling, they’d need more than fresh air and sarcasm to get through it.
The lean-to stood quiet and sun-warmed, tucked away behind the greenhouse like a secret only they shared. The moment they stepped inside, the noise of the nursery dimmed, replaced by the soft creak of old wood and the rustle of leaves overhead. It wasn’t fancy, but it was theirs. It was paradise.
Matthew leaned a shoulder against the post, watching Callie move to the bench and sit. The filtered sunlight caught strands of her hair and painted her skin with a warm glow that made his chest tighten.
She looked up. “Okay, lay it on me.”
He nodded once. “The guy Rosie passed the note to? Dylan Marks. He works for a small courier outfit that contracts with FieldSource. Local, no criminal record, nothing that raised alarms.”
Callie frowned. “Then what’s the issue?”
“He’s been rotated off that delivery route. Quietly. No warning. Hasn’t been back since.”
Her brow furrowed. “So, either Rosie asked him for something, and it flagged somewhere, or someone wanted him gone.”
She exhaled slowly, tension creeping into her shoulders.
“There’s more,” Matthew said, dropping into a seat beside her. “Based on the truck’s timing the other morning, I think someone knew exactly where that box had been unloaded.”
“You think someone inside FieldSource tipped them off?”
“Maybe. Or someone’s feeding intel from the outside. Either way, the truck wouldn’t show up for fun. They came to retrieve. They waited until first light—less traffic, fewer eyes.”
Callie crossed her arms. “But they didn’t know it had been moved.”
He shook his head. “Nope. We got lucky. And I think they figured it out too late.”
Her mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. “It had to be someone who’s either worked with Ellis before or has access to delivery manifests. The timing was too precise to be random.”
Matthew nodded, admiring her quick analysis. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds, the air between them thick with implications.
She leaned back, arms still crossed, her gaze thoughtful. “So…anything else I should know?”
Matthew hesitated, watching her carefully. “Why does that feel like a trap?”
Instead of answering, Callie reached behind her on the bench and retrieved the familiar black flashlight, holding it out in silent incrimination.