But all he wanted was her, and that realization was more than he could handle.
Dove snorted. “Cullen Monroe? The guy with the twitch and the thousand-yard stare?”
“Yeah, that one.” Buddy’s gaze went from the files to the corkboard and back.
“I’m not sure he’s completely there,” Dove said.
Buddy turned, one corner of his mouth ticking. “He’s earned the right to twitch. You’d have one too if you’d lived through what he did. But he’s a good man. His dad is a native of Calusa Cove. Cullen’s working on himself. And more importantly, he’ll protect Fallon. He’s a Marine. And I’ve seen him in action. He’d take you down.”
“Still,” Dove said. “He stares like he’s trying to remember if I’m real.”
“He’s solid,” Buddy said, pinning up another photo. “Where it matters.”
Dove smirked. “So, you’re not worried he’ll try anything?”
Buddy stopped mid-motion. “What?”
“Come on. You spent the night at her place. Don’t play dumb.”
Buddy grabbed a tack and pressed it into the cork with more force than necessary. “That’s none of your business.”
Sterling let out a heavy sigh. “I’m apparently the only one not getting any in this entire town.”
Buddy shot him a dry look. “Heard you tried with the new owner of Massey’s Pub, Juniper. How’d that go again?”
Sterling groaned. “Not a total crash. She just said she was ‘rebuilding’ and not ready for distractions.”
“She meant you were the distraction,” Dove said.
“Funny.” Sterling pointed at her. “Says the woman who stayed at the hospital with Trent. Whole damn town’s gossiping about that one.”
“Let them gossip,” she said. “I like attention, but that’s over, although it never really got off the ground.”
“Not even a week, and yet, I’m not surprised.” Buddy took a step back and stared at the board. “You’re all exhausting.” And they were. But Timothy White, the head of the Jacksonville Division of the Aegis Network, had let Buddy pick his team to open this office. It was his choice and as nutty and opposite as these two were, they were exactly who he wanted to have his back.
“And you’re deflecting,” Dove said. “Classic Buddy move.”
He ignored her and nodded toward the whiteboard. “Write this down. The words on the notes, and anything we know so far.”
Dove pulled the cap off the marker, her handwriting looping fast across the board:
MESSAGE:
—He couldn’t save them all.
—He won’t be able to save them all.
—Blue 42.
DETAILS:
—Marine epoxy resin + blue-gray silica dust
—Blue Heron Boat Tours, LLC—Possible Simon Court connection
Buddy leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “Sterling, start calling manufacturers who use that compound. There might be new ones since this case ended—distributors, boat builders, sealant suppliers—anyone in Florida who moves either compound, or both. Find me someone off-book. Do whatever it takes. They're not getting this stuff legally, and when I was with the FBI, my hands were tied way too tight. I had to go in with court orders and all that shit.”
“I know that feeling all too well.” Sterling nodded. “Got it.”
