Page 19 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

A t the sound of boots hitting the steps outside the apartment, Bennett checked the security feed on the tablet Carter had left, then moved toward the door before anyone knocked.

Mac entered first, his gaze sharp as ever, taking in the shattered window, the broken glass glinting on the floor, and the heavy chunk of mortar still sitting like a threat in the center of the chaos.

Matthew followed a step behind, his eyes scanning the scene with grim focus.

“SITREP,” Mac said, his voice low but direct.

Bennett gestured to the window. “Mortar thrown through the glass, embedded with the broken lock Carter pulled off the back door earlier this week.”

Matthew let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a message.”

“They didn’t leave a note,” Bennett said. “But they didn’t need to.”

Laurel stood in the kitchen, arms crossed and gaze steady. She hadn’t said a word since he’d stepped away to greet the others. The water bottle in her hand trembled slightly.

Mac knelt to study the debris. “Someone trying to get cute?”

“Someone trying to get bold,” Bennett corrected. “They timed it. Waited until the apartment was nearly empty, then threw it.”

Matthew gave a dry chuckle, though his eyes were still on the glass. “Always right before something gets good.”

Bennett shot him a look but said nothing. He wasn’t about to unpack the inferences of that statement in front of Laurel.

Mac stood and dusted his hands together. “Sinjin said Annie is fine, no activity there. And Hunter is outside checking the alley. He’s been on foot since Carter called. If there’s anything to track, he will.”

Good. If anyone could pick up a trail in the dark, it was Hunter. Out of all the Delta operators, Hunter could track a shadow through a thunderstorm.

A new knock sounded before the door creaked open. Gabe stepped in, his expression tight as he swept a glance across the room. His eyes settled on the broken window before shifting to Bennett.

“Everybody all right?”

“We’re good,” Bennett said. “Laurel’s a little shaken but unhurt.”

She nodded. “And pissed.”

He hid a smile. That’s my girl.

Before the implications of that thought could take root, Gabe called him over to where he crouched beside the mortar chunk. His fingers didn’t touch it, but hovered over the embedded metal, his brow furrowed.

“That the same lock from earlier in the week?” he asked.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Carter confirmed it. Was tossed in the scrap bin out back.”

Gabe exhaled a long breath as he rose to his feet. “This wasn’t random. They knew what they were doing and they’re sending a message.”

“That’s what I said,” Bennett muttered, arms crossed.

“I’ll get a forensics team out here first thing in the morning,” Gabe said, snapping photos with his phone. “Sorry, you’ll have to leave the glass where it is, but you can board up the window. And don’t hold your breath for prints. Embedded in mortar like that? Odds are slim.”

“But the timing matters,” Mac added, turning toward the window. “Someone waited until nightfall. They scoped the place.”

Matthew nodded. “They know our patterns—or at least hers.”

Gabe’s jaw tensed. “We need to lock this place down even tighter.”

“I already spoke with Carter,” Mac said. “He’s pulling camera footage and will come by later with extra equipment.”

Just then, the front door opened again, this time quieter. A woman stepped in—tall, confident stride, dark ponytail swaying behind her, expression calm but observant.

Rylee Bryson.

Gabe’s kid sister. ESI’s only female investigator, and one of the sharpest people on Mac’s team. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time with greetings. Her gaze zeroed in on Laurel like a heat-seeking missile, and within seconds, she crossed the room to her side.

Bennett watched as Laurel blinked at her approach, clearly not expecting her, but some of the tension in her shoulders bled out almost instantly.

Whatever Rylee said, it was quiet. Just for Laurel.

But the way Laurel nodded, just once, the edge of her mouth tugging in what looked like relief, was enough.

She’d found her person in the room.

Good. Because as much as he wanted to be that for her, right now he needed to remain in work mode.

Rylee glanced over at Bennett briefly, just long enough to give him a small nod of acknowledgment before steering Laurel gently toward the island and helping her into one of the stools.

“She’s good,” Rylee said softly to the room. “Just rattled.”

“And pissed,” she muttered again, folding her arms over the counter like she dared anyone to question it.

A beat passed before Matthew gave a low whistle. “Well, at least we know her spirit’s intact.”

Mac, still standing near the broken window, cracked a rare grin. “That might be the most accurate assessment of the night.”

Gabe didn’t smile. He never did when things got personal. His eyes scanned Laurel, making his own judgment before turning back to Bennett.

“You staying tonight?” he asked.

Bennett didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Gabe gave a short nod. “Good. I’ll have patrol pass by on a regular basis. And Hunter is still out there, patrolling the neighborhood.”

Bennett exhaled, shifting his weight as he scanned the room again. Laurel was pale but still upright, with Rylee keeping a careful eye on her. Mac texted someone about reinforcing the windows, while Matthew measured the frame.

It felt a little like triage after an op. Secure the site. Assess the damage. Watch for the next hit.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

“I don’t want her alone for a second,” Gabe said, voice lower now as he stepped closer. “We both know whoever did this was escalating.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Bennett assured.

He didn’t mean for the words to come out that hard.

But Gabe only gave a small nod, then turned and crossed to where Rylee was now guiding Laurel into the bedroom, murmuring something about finding shoes for her bare feet. Laurel glanced back over her shoulder—just for a second—and her gaze collided with Bennett’s.

There was no fire this time. No teasing sarcasm.

Just…trust.

And it landed in his chest like a damn gut punch.

Mac moved beside him, crossing his arms. “You think we’re pushing too hard on the Duke angle?”

Bennett blinked, his eyes still fixed on the hall where Laurel had disappeared. “No. I think we’re not pushing hard enough.”

“We’ve got motive but no evidence.”

“Yet,” Bennett said. “The guy wants this place. Has for years. And now, Annie’s standing in the way of his plan, whatever that might be. But I bet it involves millions.”

“And he’s smart enough to keep his hands clean,” Mac muttered.

Bennett finally looked over at him. “So, we dig until we find the person doing the dirty work.”

Mac’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down. “Hunter’s still tracking footprints out near the alley. He’ll keep going until he loses the trail.”

“Let me know what he finds,” Bennett said.

Mac studied him for a second. “You good?”

Bennett’s jaw ticked. “Define good.”

“Sleeping in a half-finished building, watching over a woman who doesn’t like being told what to do, while also keeping her from becoming collateral damage?”

Bennett huffed out a breath. “Yeah. Just another Tuesday.”

“Right.” Mac clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. If someone like Duke Carver is behind this, he’s not gonna stop.”

“I’m counting on it,” Bennett said, eyes already drifting back to the hallway again.

Because if the bastard made another move, Bennett would be waiting.

And this time, he wasn’t letting him get close.

***

T he door clicked softly behind them as Rylee guided her toward the massive king size bed, centered on the side wall.

The air was cooler in here, quieter too, as if the chaos outside had been muted by four solid walls.

Like this wall, the one with the alley behind it, where some jerk had stood when he threw that damn chunk of concrete.

Laurel's feet moved automatically, but the rest of her was still catching up—her brain fogged, her chest tight, and her pulse thudding like it hadn’t gotten the memo that the threat was gone.

Rylee didn’t speak at first. She just moved around the room, pulling open the closet to grab a folded throw blanket someone had placed on the shelf earlier that day, then crouched to retrieve Laurel’s sneakers from where she’d kicked them off near the nightstand.

“Here,” Rylee said, offering the sneakers with a quiet kind of calm. “Figured glass between the toes wouldn’t help your day.”

Laurel managed a half-smile, sliding her feet in. “Thanks.”

She was acting like a wounded fawn, and God, she hated it, but right now she just needed a few moments to recharge…unfortunately in front of a stranger.

Her gaze roamed over the female investigator. The woman was beautiful, with dark hair and green eyes, and Laurel could definitely see the resemblance to her brothers. There was a confident, capable air about her too. But there was no pity in Rylee’s eyes, just a steady presence.

Laurel sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Rylee followed, sitting next to her, close enough to offer comfort, but not crowding. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” Laurel shook her head. “Yes. Maybe. I mean, does everyone around here have a dramatic brush with death their first week in town, or is it just me?”

That earned a soft laugh from Rylee. “Oh, you’re definitely not the first. But you’re the only one who managed to throw hand sanitizer and kiss one of the ESI guys in the same forty-eight hours. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Laurel let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. “Please tell me that’s not common knowledge.”

“Oh, honey,” Rylee chuckled, reaching into the tote bag slung over her shoulder, “you’re living with a bunch of trained operatives. They noticed. Hell, Carter and Matthew probably made popcorn while they reviewed the footage.”

Laurel peeked up through her fingers. “Kill me now.”

“Nope. You’re too fun.”