Letty mumbled. “That was bold.”
“Reckless, but he had to have been around to see the cameras or got intel from someone else.” Wyatt focused on the burned trash.
Letty whispered. “You said you found us a safer place.”
“I did. It’s an inland property Cal keeps off public records.”
Letty leaned into him. “You didn’t think you should discuss this with me in advance?”
His jaw flexed. “I wouldn’t push it, Doc. I’m angry.”
“At me?” Letty’s voice rose.
“No, at whoever thinks they can scare you.” He paused.
“You don’t have to take this personally.”
“I do.” He stepped closer until the air between them thinned, and her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat, quick enough that he noticed and controlled enough that he knew she was still standing there by choice. “No one is touching you,” he whispered. “Not like this.”
She let out a breath that trembled. “Wyatt…”
He leaned in before she could finish. The movement wasn’t rushed nor practiced, just smooth. His lips brushed hers, slow and deliberate. It wasn’t a claiming, just soft pressure as she inhaled and her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. For half a second, he deepened it just enough for her to respond, and then he pulled back.
She gasped as his forehead almost touched hers. “I’m not letting this touch you.”
Footsteps approached from the direction of the boat bay. “Hey!” A team member called out as he got to them. “If you two are done pretending that a burned trash can is romantic, I’m ready to follow you to the safe house.”
Wyatt didn’t look away from her as she mumbled. “Your team has terrible timing.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “They do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LETTY
The safe house didn’t look like the safe houses people see in movies. It was a modest inland rental tucked beneath live oaks. Spanish moss covered the courtyard like something out of a postcard. The gravel drive popped under the tires as the SUV rolled up the long path.
Wyatt parked their ride in the garage and closed the door.
“This is it?”
“Yes,” he answered.
She walked behind him, pivoting her head to scan the garage as he opened the door. “Who owns it?”
“LLC,” he said. “Layered. It’s not searchable from public records.”
She cocked her head. “Nice.”
The air in the house was heavier and smelled like pine, instead of salt. Wyatt moved with purpose, setting the alarm and checking the first floor. He pointed. “These cameras are motion-triggered infrared. The feeds go to Salt & Steel.”
She stepped to the window.Laminated, that’s why I couldn’t see in when we drove up.
Wyatt stepped up next to her and pointed at the door to the deck. “Deadbolt is reinforced, and there is a secret exit through the kitchen pantry.”
She arched her brow. “Of course there is. You think of everything.”
“Mainly about the exits.” He deadpanned.
