Page 43 of Matthew
They were setting something in motion.
And tomorrow’s delivery might be the next breadcrumb.
Back at the ESI SUV, Matthew opened the rear hatch and grabbed his tablet from the case beside the console. He slid into the driver’s seat, dropped the tablet in his lap, and pulled out his phone to text Carter.
Need a trace on a citrus soil vendor. One pallet added to Morgan Creek’s next delivery. Not on Callie’s list.
Vendor name’s on the manifest I just sent. Also going to send you an image of a truck and plate to check out.
The reply came fast.
Carter:
On it, lover boy.
And remind the nursery queen to check her junk folder. I emailed her a camera feed link an hour ago. Tell her to stop ghosting me.
A second later, a meme popped up.
Kermit the Frog tapping away at a typewriter.
Caption:“When you’re investigating a love story disguised as a supply chain breach”
Matthew snorted softly and didn’t bother replying.
Instead, he tapped into the SUV’s surveillance app and skimmed the feeds Carter had wired into the nursery’s perimeter. Then he mirrored the feed to the tablet, pulling the most recent file from the front lot camera and creating a backup copy on a secure drive. It took less than a minute to isolate the delivery truck from earlier, freeze-frame it, and drop a tag on the timestamp.
If anything happened tomorrow, they’d have this for comparison.
He leaned back, one arm slung over the seat, eyes drifting to the windshield where the soft morning light spilled across the drive.
Outside, Callie walked a slow perimeter near the side fence, Sammy close at her heels. She paused occasionally, letting the dog sniff or turning to scan the trees. Always alert. Always aware.
That part hadn’t changed since the kiss.
Although, now he could see what was underneath, why her shoulders stayed tight, why her gaze flicked a second too long at every unfamiliar noise.
She wasn’t just unsettled. She was bracing.
Matthew’s jaw flexed.
Something wasn’t right. And if someone thought they could rattle her or use this place as cover, they were going to learn the hard way. He was staying close. And he wasn’t the kind of man you could scare off.
Movement flickered at the edge of the highway.
He turned, his gaze narrowing as a delivery truck rounded the bend and merged with traffic. Same model as the one from earlier. Different markings. A different route.
But the timing scraped at his instincts.
Too clean. Too convenient.
His eyes tracked it until the trees swallowed it up.
Sometimes the real threat wasn’t what got dropped off.
Sometimes, it was what got picked up without anyone noticing.
Chapter Ten
