Page 37 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

T he buzz of conversation drifted through the ESI boardroom, familiar and low-level as the late afternoon sun slipped lower in the sky.

With most of the crew away on their assignments, Bennett leaned against the back of the table, his arms crossed, watching Carter and Matthew review security footage from the night before.

No anomalies. No shadows. No signs of tampering.

It should’ve made him feel better.

It didn’t.

Bennett gave a slow nod but didn’t move. “Check the alley cams?”

“All clear,” Matthew chimed in, tapping the keyboard. “Even the raccoons stayed home last night.”

He knew that since he’d checked it all out himself. Twice.

Still, his gut stayed tight.

It wasn’t about what wasn’t on the feed. It was the feeling that someone was waiting for the cameras to relax.

Before he could respond, the front door opened down the hall, followed by the sound of purposeful boots.

A moment later, the sheriff stepped into the room. He carried a folder and a look that said this wasn't a social call. Bennett immediately straightened to face him.

“Gentlemen,” Gabe said. “Got something.”

“Let’s hear it,” Mac replied, already stepping close.

Gabe opened the folder and laid out a few grainy surveillance stills on the table. “This is from a bar down in Port Aransas. Tuesday night.”

Bennett glanced at the images. The angles weren’t great, but the profile was unmistakable. Duke Carver, seated in a booth, leaning in close to a man wearing a worn ball cap and a heavy gray hoodie.

Gabe tapped the image. “The guy with him is Fred Hess. He was a contractor who worked briefly on a renovation project two years ago before Brandi shut it down. Word is, he’s been doing off-the-books jobs since.”

“Didn’t she fire him for trying to bring in unapproved subs?” Mac asked.

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “And then he tried to sue her for breach of contract. It didn’t go anywhere, but he’s still bitter. And now he’s meeting with Duke Carver, who has every reason to want that building to fail.”

Shit.

“Duke’s not dumb,” Bennett said. “He wouldn’t put that kind of move in writing.”

“No,” Gabe agreed. “But if Hess is handling things for him, there’s enough distance for plausible deniability.”

Bennett leaned forward, tapping the photo. “You think Hess is behind the break-in?”

“I think he’s capable of it,” Gabe said. “And I think Duke’s still pulling strings.”

Carter whistled low. “You want us to talk to Hess?”

“Not yet,” Gabe said. “I need more than a sketchy drink in a bar. But I wanted you in the loop.”

Mac nodded, eyes narrowing. “Appreciate it.”

Gabe tucked the file back under his arm. “Laurel at the diner today?”

“Afternoon shift,” Bennett answered without thinking. “New girl’s on mornings.”

Gabe nodded. “Might be worth having someone keep an eye out twenty-four seven now. Hess is unpredictable, and Duke’s getting more desperate by the day.”

The sheriff left without another word, and the room shifted as the door clicked shut.

Bennett didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

Mac gave him a look. “Go check on her.”

He was already reaching for his keys.

***

T he afternoon rush had come and gone, and Laurel found herself elbow-deep in a tray of silverware, sorting through mismatched forks and spoons behind the counter.

Aunt Annie had insisted she was “just going to step outside for some air,” which Laurel hadn’t thought much about, until she noticed the side door was still cracked open ten minutes later.

She wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the back, expecting to find Annie talking with one of the regulars near the dumpster or fussing over a planter that didn’t need fussing.

Instead, she heard voices.

Male. Low and wrong.

Laurel paused just inside the open doorway.

Through the slice of alley between the brick wall and the back of the diner, she saw Annie standing stiffly, her arms crossed, with a tall man blocking her path.

He wasn’t yelling, but his voice had that slick, pressuring tone Laurel recognized instantly from years of dealing with demanding brides, flaky vendors, and smug event coordinators who thought “urgent” meant she’d drop everything for a fruit tray.

“…just saying, Ms. Winslow. It wouldn’t take much to delay things. Red tape’s got a way of tying people up when they least expect it.”

“I told you, the permits are in order,” Annie said, chin up. “We’re not interested in your help.”

“Oh, I don’t need to be helpful,” he said. “Just…present.”

That was it.

Anger ruling her pulse, Laurel stepped outside and rounded on the guy. “Is there a problem here?”

The man turned and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing at all. Just discussing a little business.”

“Well, she’s not interested,” Laurel said, moving to stand beside her aunt. “So, you can leave. Now.”

A hard glint flickered in his expression. He took a step toward them—just one—but it was enough to make Laurel move in front of her aunt.

And then another figure stepped out of the shadows.

“You heard her.” It was the man with the scarred hand. She hadn’t seen him in a few days. Thought perhaps he’d moved on.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. He was calm. Steady. The kind of steady that made your instincts sit up straight and pay attention.

The pushy guy froze for half a second. Then scoffed and backed up, muttering words Laurel didn’t catch.

When he turned to go, another man materialized from the shadows behind the dumpster.

Sinjin.

She recognized him as the ESI guy that was keeping an eye on her aunt.

No expression, but a steady stare. And when the offender turned and bolted down the alley like a cornered rat, Sinjin gave chase.

Laurel stood frozen for a breath before turning back toward the man with the scar, only to find the space he’d been standing in already empty.

Annie let out a breath and leaned against the wall. “Well,” she said. “That was unexpected.”

Laurel’s heart continued to pound at an increased rate. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Annie said, though her hands were shaking a little. “Wasn’t expecting a muscle-flexing monologue behind the dumpster, but here we are.”

Laurel forced a laugh even as her gaze darted back to the empty shadows. She’d barely gotten her heart to slow when she heard footsteps, quick, and sure, and then the deep thump of someone being slammed against brick.

She turned just in time to see Sinjin rounding the corner, one hand gripping the arm of the man who’d threatened them, dragging him toward the back lot like it was just another Wednesday.

The guy was gasping, trying to squirm loose, but Sinjin looked like he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

And then Bennett was there.

He rushed around the corner, jaw tight, eyes scanning until they landed on Laurel—and then Annie—before locking on the man in Sinjin’s grip.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice sharp but steady.

“Your guy here,” Annie said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve, “just intercepted someone who thought threats and intimidation were a good idea.”

Laurel added, “He came at Annie hard. Told her she should back off the renovations. I stepped in, and he got aggressive with us both.”

Bennett’s gaze flicked back to the man’s face.

The guy was pale but tight-lipped.

Bennett tilted his head. “You know him?”

“No,” Laurel said. “But I’ve seen him before. On-site, I think. Maybe one of Brandi’s crew?”

Sinjin spoke for the first time. “He ran. That’s all I needed to know.”

Bennett looked at Laurel again, this time a little longer. Not just checking for injuries—checking in. She didn’t shrink under it.

“I’m fine,” she said, softer now. “He didn’t get the chance.”

Bennett nodded once, then looked at Sinjin. “My truck’s on the side. Let’s get him in there and call Gabe.”

Sinjin gave a slight nod and moved past them without another word, dragging the man along.

As they disappeared around the side, Laurel exhaled and finally let herself lean against the brick wall. Her aunt was fine. She was fine. But this? This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Laurel reached for her aunt’s elbow gently. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

“I can walk, sweetheart,” Annie said, but her voice wobbled just enough to make Laurel press a little firmer.

“I know, but humor me. Office couch, ten minutes off your feet.” She forced another smile. “I’ll even make you that weird peppermint tea you pretend to like.”

That got a faint huff of amusement, and Annie let herself be guided through the back door and into the diner. The bustle inside had calmed, and the afternoon lull gave them a bit of privacy as Laurel steered her toward the small office tucked near the back hallway.

By the time Annie sank onto the cushioned couch and kicked off her shoes with a mutter about “ridiculous doctor’s orders,” Laurel had already poured water into the electric kettle.

She kept busy while the kettle hummed, anything to work the adrenaline out of her limbs. But the edge in her chest didn’t ease, not until she heard the back doorbell jingle, and heavy boots cross the tile.

Bennett.

Followed by Sheriff Gabe Bryson, his expression serious as always, though his eyes softened when he spotted Annie.

“We heard what happened,” Gabe said, stepping inside the office as Laurel handed her aunt the steaming mug then sat next to her.

Annie raised her cup in mock toast. “Guess I’m more popular than I thought.”

“Or someone doesn’t like your renovation plans,” Bennett said, standing just inside the door, his arms crossed but focused entirely on Laurel.

Laurel looked between them. “Sinjin got the guy, so what’s next?”

“He’s on his way to the station in the back of my deputy’s cruiser,” Gabe said. “Name’s Rick Nolan. Does some contracting work, off and on. Might’ve passed through Brandi’s crews, but I need to confirm that.”

“I thought I recognized him,” Laurel said, brow furrowed. “He’s not one of Brandi’s regulars, but I’ve seen him around the site.”