“Not in a club way. Not watching because he liked what he saw. Just… watching. Like he was studying people.”
“That’s not exactly actionable, sweetheart.”
Emily shot him a look, nose wrinkled. “Call it women’s intuition.”
“I’ve never liked him either,” Cari admitted. “Which is why he’s the first name I’d put on the board.”
Leland cut in, his voice hard-edged. “Next time something feels off, you share it.”
“I would have if, I’d been sure.” Cari added drily, “Getting tossed to the gators tends to sharpen your instincts.”
Alec pulled his phone out. “Who handles surveillance at The Underground clubs?”
The question seemed to hang in the room. Even Callan stopped typing.
“That’s an excellent question,” Rhys said.
Alec dialed and put it on speaker. It rang twice.
“What now?”
“No bullshit, Pete. This is important. Who manages your surveillance systems?”
A pause, then: “Strickland Security. Why?”
Alec hung up and lowered the phone. No one in the room liked the answer.
“You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence. Trust me. It’s him,” Cari insisted.
Callan straightened. “We’re up again.”
“Dock feed. Now,” Leland ordered.
Callan pulled it up. Footage of the dock area rolled: earlier, crowded, with Cari mid-gift-reveal. The feed cut out at the point.
“That was several minutes before they walked down,” Emily observed.
“Of course it was,” Alec muttered.
Focused on the screen, Dev asked, “Whose boat was in that slip?”
Callan scrubbed backward, isolating the frame, zooming in.
“There,” Alec said, pointing. “The name’s on the hull.Crystal Tide.”
“Holy hell,” Michael barked. “The bastard stole my boat?”
Every head turned.
“I’m here,” he snapped. “So, obviously, it’s not me.”
Greta patted his arm. “They know that, dear.”
Leland cut in. “Got a tracker on it?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Greta said at the same time.
