Chapter Eighteen
T he room felt too still for how much was happening.
Matthew sat at the conference table in ESI’s ops room, his shoulders squared, focus locked in despite the thrum of unease under his skin.
The room held a low buzz of tension with Mac at the head, arms crossed, Briggs, the DEA liaison, flipping through notes, Caspian and Bennett flanking the wall like two sentinels, and Carter pacing with a protein bar he’d yet to open.
A whole hour had gone by already with the debriefing. An hour too long. Matthew’s gut churned. He needed to be with Callie. To protect her. Things were heating up.
“So,” Carter said, halting to casually lean against the credenza. “We’re chasing a cartel because someone screwed up a soil shipment?”
Matthew didn’t smile. “Close enough.”
Carter’s teasing faded, his eyes narrowing. “You good?”
“Yeah.” He nodded once. “Just want this over.”
It brought up a past he’d rather forget and held back a future he wanted to pursue.
Mac looked up. “We’re close. DEA’s been circling GreenSpace and Vantage Gulf for months now. This link with the south Texas route and that powder you helped intercept? It’s what they needed since the central Texas trail went cold.”
Briggs set the folder down. “Now it appears we’ve found them again.”
Matthew nodded tightly, fingers drumming against the tabletop. “We were lucky the nursery flagged the shipment. Otherwise, we’d still be flying blind.”
Briggs leaned forward. “How many distribution points are we talking?”
“Too early to say for sure,” Mac replied. “But we suspect at least three. Possibly more, if the route’s been active as long as we think.”
Carter finally tore open the protein bar and took a bite, talking around it. “I did a background check on all of Morgan Creek’s employees. Most came up clean—except one. Les Hutchins.”
Matthew’s head snapped up.
Shit. Not Rosie?
Bennett lifted a brow. “That the soil guy?”
Carter nodded. “He’s got a brother working a similar job over in Lockridge. Different nursery, same suppliers. Nothing concrete, but enough overlap to raise eyebrows.”
“Why are we just now hearing this?” Mac asked.
“I ran the checks two nights ago. The hit came back early this morning—low-level priors, nothing major, but his brother was flagged in a DEA sting that didn’t stick. The kind of file that stays quiet unless you know to look.”
“Could be nothing.” Briggs leaned back, lips pressing into a thin line. “Or it could be the node we’ve been missing.”
Matthew’s knee bounced under the table. “Les has been quiet, reliable. Never raised any alarms until now.”
“Yeah,” Carter said, voice dry. “Those are the ones that always surprise you.”
Matthew checked his phone on the table again. Still no word from Callie. He’d sent her a check-in text fifteen minutes ago. Silence wasn’t good. He forced a breath out of his nose. “I left her alone at the nursery this morning.”
Caspian tilted his head. “She’s got staff.”
“Yeah, Nate and Rosie, but also Les,” Matthew said, tension coiling tighter. “I need to go.”
Before anyone could respond, his phone lit up.
Shit. His heart rocked. It wasn’t her.
“Nate?” He answered on the first ring, setting the call to speaker.
“Matthew, something’s wrong.” The man’s voice was low, urgent. “Callie hasn’t come back from the greenhouse. It’s been a while, so I checked the feed.”
His pulse flatlined. “What did you see?”
“There’s a live angle on the back greenhouse. Les was there, blocking her path.” Matthew jumped up, chair scraping against the floor.
“That’s not all,” Nate continued. “Another man showed up. Bigger. Resembles Les, but older.”
His blood turned to ice. “Stay on the feed. Keep it recording. I’m on my way.” He hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Callie’s in trouble.”
Mac didn’t waste a beat. “Go. Take Caspian and Bennett. Carter, tap into that feed, and get us more info on this brother. Briggs, you’re with me. I’ll call the sheriff on the way.”
Matthew didn’t wait for another word.
He was already moving, boots pounding through the corridor as Caspian and Bennett fell in step behind him. Adrenaline surged like a live wire through his veins. His mind ran ahead, calculating distance, obstacles, contingencies. None of it mattered if he was too late.
He should’ve never left her.
They veered left through the corridor, straight into the armory.
Caspian grabbed a vest and tossed it his way. “Standard loadout.”
Matthew caught it, strapping it on with practiced speed. Bennett was already checking weapons, silently efficient.
Matthew slid his sidearm into place, his pulse pounding harder with each second. “Let’s move,” he said, jaw tight.
They pushed through to the garage bay, the SUV already waiting. Caspian took the wheel, firing up the SUV with a growl of the engine. Bennett slid into the back, already on comms with Carter. Matthew climbed into the passenger seat, yanked his phone from his pocket, and opened the surveillance app.
The feed buffered for half a breath, then snapped into view.
There she was.
Callie stood rigid in the center of the greenhouse, hands clenched at her sides. Les was facing her, his expression tight. A second man loomed behind her near the back entrance, as Nate had informed. Taller, broader, same angular jaw.
The brother.
Matthew’s heart hammered against his ribs.
The audio crackled, but her voice came through clear enough.
“…then you picked the wrong greenhouse.”
A beat of silence. Then Les, quieter: “You don’t understand. We don’t make the rules.”
Callie’s shoulders stiffened. “You made the choice.”
The second man stepped closer behind her, and something about his stance made every protective instinct Matthew had snap to attention.
“I say we ditch her now,” the man said coldly. “She’s already seen too much.”
Matthew swore under his breath, his knuckles white on the phone. “They touch her—”
“They won’t,” Caspian said, his voice steel. “Not if we get there in time.”
The SUV roared onto the road, tires clawing for traction.
Bennett’s voice came from the backseat and over the comms they were now hooked into. “We’ve got Carter digging for info on the other Hutchins. Mac and Briggs are already coordinating with Gabe.”
“ETA?” Caspian asked.
“Three minutes behind us,” Bennett replied.
Matthew’s attention was still locked on the screen. Callie hadn’t moved, but the camera angle made it impossible to see if she was stalling or preparing something.
She looked so damn calm.
And that scared the hell out of him more than anything.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured to the screen. “We’re coming.”
The SUV barely screeched to a halt near the greenhouse and Matthew was out, weapon drawn, sprinting through the heat toward the glass structure.
He vaguely registered the slamming of doors behind him as Caspian and Bennett flanked him, their footsteps pounding in sync.
Gabe’s cruiser rolled in behind them, gravel crunching.
Matthew didn’t wait.
The greenhouse loomed ahead, its curved panels clouded with condensation, turning everything inside into a vague blur of shapes and shadows. No clear line of sight, only the faint suggestion of movement beyond the glass.
Matthew’s boots hit the gravel with barely a sound. His breath was tight in his chest, adrenaline narrowing his focus to the warped outline of Callie’s silhouette.
She was in there. Trapped.
And they were almost out of time.
“Side approach,” Matthew ordered, voice low. “Caspian take the rear. Bennett, front. I’ve got the side. On me.”
They moved as one. Silent. Precise.
Matthew reached the side door in seconds, heart pounding in his damn throat. He paused outside, reading every sound inside, the low murmur of a voice, Callie’s voice, steady but thin.
“—don’t have to do this, Les. You know that. You can still walk away.”
Then a harsher voice. “You think they’ll just let us? You really think we’re the ones in charge here?”
The brother.
Matthew’s earpiece crackled. “Mac and Briggs are a minute out,” Carter relayed.
He wasn’t waiting.
“Going in on two,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Roger,” Caspian and Bennett replied in unison.
“One…Two!” On Matthew’s signal, they entered. The side door stuck, but he yanked hard and gained access. Heat hit like a wall.
So did the tension.
In a split-second assessment, he noted that Callie stood near the potting bench across from him, body still, her jaw tight, a pouch clutched in one hand. Les was three feet in front of her. The second man had stepped in behind her, effectively boxing her in.
“Drop the gun!” Matthew barked, rushing in, placing himself between her and the threat.
The brother flinched, turning slightly, but before he could react, Caspian was already behind him. In one swift, fluid motion, Caspian yanked the man’s arm back, dislodging the weapon. The gun clattered to the floor as the man cursed, twisting in vain.
“Hands where I can see them,” Bennett commanded Les, his weapon trained on the employee.
Les hesitated, then raised his hands slowly. “Don’t shoot. I—I didn’t—” He looked at Callie. “I didn’t want it to go this far.”
The brother grimaced as Caspian cuffed him. His gaze narrowed on Matthew. “Who the hell are you?”
“Security,” he replied, holstering his gun. “And you’re done.”
“Matthew?” Callie’s voice was faint behind him.
He twisted around in time to watch her knees give out. “I’m here.” He caught her as she sank and lowered them both to the bench. “I’m here,” he repeated against her hair, holding her close. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”
She clutched at his shirt, fingers trembling, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “I thought—”
Her voice broke, and something in Matthew’s chest splintered.
“I know,” he said quietly, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other cupping the back of her head where she pressed against his chest. “I’ve got you.”
She burrowed closer, her body still shaking. “Can’t believe you showed up.”