Page 115 of Bennett

She’d expected confrontation. Evasion. Maybe even anger. But not…that.

Not remorse.

Not protectiveness.

Not that haunted look in his eyes when he’d talked about Bennett.

Laurel turned back toward the center of the shop, her hands wrapped tightly around her body as if it would stop the ache in her chest. She stared at the space where the coffee bar wouldgo, where people would one day gather and laugh and talk about things far lighter than this.

The buzzing sense of progress and hope from earlier was still there, but it had dulled, edged now with questions and unease.

This was Bennett’s past. His wound. And she’d just stepped straight into the middle of it.

Uninvited.

Uncertain.

But she was not walking away.

The man meant too much to her. So much. The ache in her chest squeezed tighter, sharp and deep.

She hadn’t planned on falling for Bennett. And certainly not this fast.

But it was already too late.

The soft chime of the front door opening pulled her head up. She turned instinctively, expecting Theo to circle back or maybe Bennett returning like he said he would. Her pulse hiccupped with a hopeful little jump.

But it wasn’t Theo who met her gaze.

And it wasn’t Bennett.

The man stepping inside wore jeans and a faded work shirt, sleeves rolled up like he belonged there. But the second her gaze dropped to his hands, every muscle in her body stiffened, and her heart seized.

He had a gun.

Then a sharp, chemical smell hit her a second before her mind registered what he gripped in his other hand.

A red gas can.

Laurel’s pulse slammed into her throat. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The man stepped further inside and closed the door behind him with a quiet click, like he had all the time in the world.

“I couldn’t get to your aunt,” he said, his voice flat, his dark gaze hard and angry. “So you’ll have to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

By the time Bennett pushed through the front door of Eagle Security & Investigations, he could practically feel the tension pulsing from the war room down the hall.

He entered to find Mac standing at the head of the table, arms crossed, face carved in stone. Carter was hunched over his laptop, fingers flying across the keys like his brain was ten steps ahead of the data. Matthew had half the conference table covered in site logs and printed spreadsheets, the paper curling at the corners like it had been handled too many times already.

They were in it.Deep.

“Morning,” Bennett said, shutting the door behind him. “Tell me you’ve got something.”

“We’ve got a few somethings,” Carter replied without looking up. His voice was clipped, focused. “Started cross-referencing vendor payments and crew lists tied to Duke’s development company. Found two LLCs funneling money to Fred Hess’ crew. Names are clean, but the signatures and EINs link back to one of Duke’s shells. Cleverly buried, I might add, and deep enough to fool most.” Carter met his gaze, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But not deep enough to dodge me.”

Bennett huffed a quiet laugh. “Remind me never to piss you off.” He leaned in, scanning the screen before he dropped into the chair beside Carter. “So, Duke’s been bankrolling Hess this whole time.”